


Winter Roses: Autumn

by fairytalelovr



Series: Winter Roses [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, R Plus L Equals J
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 274,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytalelovr/pseuds/fairytalelovr
Summary: Sequel to Winter Roses: SummerThe longest summer in living memory is over and the Citadel has declared autumn has finally started. On the aftermath of the events at Castle Black, the tensions up at the Wall are ever higher. War breeds in the Seven Kingdoms, and two Great Houses find themselves in ever increasing odds while in the capital too many people are scheming too many plots.





	1. Chapter 1

Ayla stared at the sunset over the balcony. It was an incredible sight she still thought amazing after all this time living here, and yet, today she couldn’t appreciate it.

“You look like a woman who has something on her mind,” Ella said softly so her voice would carry and wake the three little angels sleeping in the nursery.

“I have a bad feeling,” was all Ayla replied, rubbing her hand over her heart. “I…”

“Mother senses,” Ella whispered, equally anxious. “Yes, I understand.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m just…” she trailed off.

Ella remained quiet. The worst thing right now would be empty reassurances. They watched in silence for a few more moments. Then the sea swallowed the sun and bathed the land in darkness, and suddenly the quietness of the night was broken by Nymeria, Lady, and Shaggydog, howling loudly and long. The difference in tune was obvious from just a few hours ago: rather than a welcoming feeling, it transpired a dark cloud of grief.

“I’m going to the godswood,” Ayla announced, clutching the winter diamond pendant around her neck. “No need to wait for me for supper.”

And she left in a rush. Ella swallowed dry. Ayla had had a bad feeling, the kind only a mother could have. _No. No, I will not think like this. My brother is there. Ned is there. And Jon takes after his mother and fathers when he’s got a blade in his hands._

A new brightness drew her eye from the west, where the sun had just set, to the east, the peak of the volcano. More lava was oozing from the top, tinting the night sky with fiery light. The Dornish lady took a deep breath. The volcano had erupted when Daenerys had been in a delicate situation. _But Dany lived_ , she reminded herself. Then she decided to focus on that. She called for the maids to watch over the boys, who were soon to wake up, as she left in search of Maester Wolkan. She needed to ensure that no other cloud of ash would cover the island. The last thing she needed was to be cut off the world when they more than ever needed to receive ravens.

Then she went to her own chambers, where Dawn was sleeping. She could make the journey in half the time as a regular raven, and Ella just couldn’t sit back and wait for over a week for a raven there and back.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned was in the middle of explaining his plan when the silver direwolf stood suddenly from his side and rushed to the door, scratching it to get out. The man frowned, a bad feeling taking over, and stood quickly, following the wolf down the corridor. A blur of white passed by them so fast he was nearly invisible and Ned felt his heart skip a beat, speeding up the rest of the way to the Lord Commander’s solar. He could hear Ghost growling inside and more than one man yelling out in pain. The silver direwolf rushed forward, now that Ned knew where to come, and joined the fight inside.

Ned froze on the doorway, his blood freezing in his veins, and he faltered. “No! No, no, no, no!” He ran into the room, kneeling next to Jon, pulling him into his arms. “No, not my son! Jon!”

Benjen froze upon the door as well, trying to comprehend the scene in front of him. He saw the blood puddled on the floor, saw the gash on Jon’s chest, but his brain refused to accept it. It wasn’t true. It simply could not be.

“I… I will get… the… Maester Aemon,” he mumbled, though Ned was too incoherent to understand.

Ghost sat back on his haunches, howling in pure grief, his muzzle red with blood. Ned could only cry, doubled over Jon’s chest, his eyes hazed by tears, sobbing.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Addam was fuming outside the dining hall. He had half a mind to make Greyjoy pay for the treacherous words he spoke, but he couldn’t. The foolish boy was merely parroting the lie they had allowed the realm to believe in order to protect Jon and Daenerys.

“Ser Addam!” Wex exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. “I thought you were with the lord.”

“No, he went to their rooms with the lady,” the knight replied. “I saw her come down with Orys, but I thought he stayed in.”

“I thought so too, but I just went there and the room is empty. Jory said Lord Stark is alone with Lord Benjen and Lord Robb went to speak with Lady Margaery.”

Addam stood up straighter. “Where is Lord Tarly?”

“My guess is the library,” the guard replied with a shrug.

“Send a couple of men to their room just in case and go check the library, have a man with Lord Tarly at all times as well, I don’t like the look of these men here, and we have had proof they are ready to raise in mutiny,” Addam said, seeing Ghost in the courtyard. “I’ll see if Ghost can give a quicker direction to—” Ghost suddenly stopped his play with Grey Wind, whooshing out of the courtyard. “Get more men,” Addam said, rushing after the direwolf as fast as his human legs could carry him.

In his mind, he wanted to cuff Jon ‘round the ears. He really needed to accept that he couldn’t just walk around without at least a guard with him, especially in another castle. But now that Ned was finally going to tell him the truth, perhaps he would stop being so bull— he stiffened. From the end of the corridor, he could see the Lord Commander’s door open and sobbing coming from inside. There was a thunder of clunky footsteps behind him and he saw Wex, Leeds, and another five Starling guards starting to climb the stairs at the bottom of the tower.

Unsheathing his borrowed sword, he rushed down the corridor and his lungs let out all the air in them when he saw the scene inside. His heart broke in a million pieces. _I failed. Again, I failed again. I failed Rhaegar, I failed Lyanna, now I failed their son._ He stood unmoving, incapable of processing anything but pain.

Then there was a groan from across the room and Ghost growled. Addam saw the man lying on the ground, a deep bite on his left leg. Ser Alliser Thorne. He crossed the room to him, seeing as Ghost only raised his hackles. His antipathy for the man aside, the direwolf’s reaction was telling enough. The guards arrived then.

“Leeds, get the Lord Commander to his room, Maester Aemon will see to him later; then get these other fuckers to the ice cells, make sure none of them die before they can be sentenced. I want Thorne in a room out of the way where I can question him,” Addam bit out, focusing his anger towards something productive.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Robb pulled away from Margaery when Grey Wind scratched the door from the outside. He was about to ignore his companion when he insisted, so Robb sat up and stood from the bed.

“What is the matter with him?” Margaery asked, setting her neckline to rights.

“Don’t know,” Robb replied, also straightening himself, “I thought he was bothering the cooks in the kitchens.” He opened the door and Grey Wind moved away from the room. “Go find some venison, boy,” Robb said with a chuckle.

But the wolf didn’t share his levity, whining and motioning to leave down the corridor again. Robb frowned, recognising he wanted to be followed.

“Stay here, Margaery, I’ll have some guards sent up and I will—”

He was interrupted by Ghost’s howling and a feeling of dread took him by surprise through his connection with Grey Wind. The albino was howling in grief. There was only one reason Robb could think of for this. Pale, he reached for his cloak.

“I’m coming with you,” Margaery said, fastening hers quickly.

“Absolutely not,” Robb decreed. “I have no idea what’s happening, you are staying here with guards posted until I know it’s safe.” And he left quickly, not leaving room for argument.

Margaery clenched her jaw, then went to the door, finding three Tyrell guards. “Do you know the way to the dining hall?” she asked. She had looked for Dany after her first talk with Robb, being told where she was, and had only gone to her rooms for more layers of clothes before joining her when Robb had changed her plans. The guard nodded. “Good. Take me there.” Margaery found Dany laughing with Sam in one table, Theon Greyjoy looking sour to the side.

“Marge!” Dany greeted with a smile. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Then she frowned. “What is the matter?”

“I don’t know. I was… I was talking with Robb when Grey Wind came and called him away. Didn’t you hear the howling?”

“No…” Dany looked around the room: the brothers were talking loudly and someone was playing a song. “There’s too much noise in here. What is it?” A group of Starling guards stormed into the room, making everyone stop and look.

“Party is over!” Addam exclaimed. “Everybody back to your own rooms, and no one is leaving after. Anyone found wandering will be cut down.”

The brothers scrambled to leave the room and Dany felt her breathing quicken. “Where is Jon?” she asked Addam, noticing his face was even more stony and deadly than when Theon had been mouthing off.

“I am escorting you there, Dany, come on,” was all he said.

“Addam, what happened?” she insisted.

“Dany, I… I can’t… I will take you there. And if you don’t have five guards breathing down your neck at every moment, so help me gods!”

Dany felt her heart sink and quickly followed out of the room and through the narrow, creaking stairs to the Lord Commander’s solar. She screamed in pure agony, her legs failing to hold her weight, and Margaery held her up. Addam crossed the room and stopped by Ned, delicately putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s—”

“No!” the northerner exclaimed, clinging to his son even more strongly. “No! I’m not… no!”

Benjen brought Maester Aemon into the room then.

“Uncle,” Daenerys said weakly, “please. There… there must…”

“Clear the table,” the maester ordered with a wavering voice, “and lay him there.”

Robb stood up and pushed everything out of the way, uncaring for the mess, then Benjen wrestled his brother away and Addam picked Jon up. Ghost whimpered, nosing his inert hand.

“Tarly, I need eyes,” Maester Aemon said and Sam scrambled to help. “So?”

Sam tried to get the doublet open, but the clasps wouldn’t cooperate, so Addam took Rhaegar’s old Valyrian steel dagger from Jon’s belt and cut it away like melted butter. Jon’s bare chest came into view then and the knight finally let a tear escape from his eyes.

“Addam?” Dany called weakly.

“What do you see, Tarly?” the maester insisted.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Dany,” Sam said, tears filling his eyes as well. “There’s… there’s nothing… it went straight through the heart.”

The maester faltered as well, but Addam’s quick reflexes kicked in and he held the elderly man up and helped him to a chair.

“No!” Dany yelled, pushing Margaery’s arms away and crossing to the table, taking Jon’s hand in hers. “He can’t…” And she finally lost it, dissolving in tears.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Gendry was picking up a loaf of bread at the bakery when he heard the howling. Hot Pie shivered, goose bumps erupting with the sound.

“Them wolves are loud today,” the boy said.

“Yeah,” Gendry murmured. It was true that it was the second time in so many hours that they were all howling together, something that was unusual, but even if he knew next to nothing about wolves, there was something different about their howling. “What’d think it means?”

“Don’t know,” Hot Pie shrugged. “Haven’t you seen Arya?”

“Not since the reading lesson this afternoon. But that was before the first round of howling.”

“I’ll tell ya what, I think Nymeria is smarter than them other wolves,” Hot Pie said, now rolling up some dough.

“Why, you know a lot of wolves?” Gendry asked, amused.

“She don’t look like a beast, do she?”

“Nah, no she doesn’t,” the smith agreed. Then the very topic of their conversation pushed the door to the bakery open.

It was a testament to just how much different than mindless beasts the direwolves were that no one even flinched. People in the Blessed Island, especially in the castle and the Midnight Village, were more than used to having them around, so no one batted an eye at the she-wolf’s presence.

“Hey girl,” Gendry greeted, scratching her head, “watcha doing here? Where’s your human?” Nymeria closed her eyes and enjoyed the petting for a moment, but then moved to push Gendry out of the bakery with her snout. He was a few paces from the door when she turned back and pulled Hot Pie by his sleeve. “I think she wants us to follow her…” the smith said as they left the building.

“Bloody smart wolf, told ya. Think Arya is in trouble?” the baker asked.

Gendry snorted. “Knowing her? Very likely.”

Nymeria guided them all the way down to the pier, but then instead of going to the main path where the boats where moored, she led them to a nearby clot of trees.

“Seriously, Nymeria?” Arya asked quietly when she saw them coming.

“Uh, why are you hiding in the dark with a satchel?” Hot Pie asked. Both Arya and Gendry shushed him — the last thing any of them needed was to get caught.

“You can’t be thinking of running away, milady,” Gendry said quietly.

“I’m not _running away_ , stupid. I’m going to the Wall.”

The smith barely held back an eye roll. “Will it scar me for life to ask why?”

“You really are stupid,” she huffed. “There was something about that last howl, alright. I just _know_ there was. There is something very, very, very wrong up there. And I hate sitting still.”

“But you’re never managing to get away!” Hot Pie exclaimed, prompting new shushes.

“He’s right, though,” Gendry continued. “You’re gonna need to be able to fool those six patrolling guards and steal a boat…”

“Don’t be stupid! They’re my brother’s, I’m not stealing it! Besides, I’m not gonna take it with me, I’m gonna leave it at the dock at Sunstone! It’s called borrowing!”

“Yeah, I was getting there.” Gendry rolled his eyes. “So, say you manage to fool these six guards long enough to get into a boat, you’d have to row pretty fast to turn the first corner down the lake into the river before they see you and raise the alarm. _If_ you manage that, and that’s a great big if, there are sentinels posted every 30 yards or so down river, alternating sides, so that’s gonna be a real easy trip. Then you have to pray that you can get to the dock at Sunstone and fool the guards around there as well. And, even if you do manage to do all that, you’re gonna have to be bloody lucky to have a ship departing north. You won’t be able to buy or bribe your way in, so you’re gonna have to stow away. And all that, if you weren’t counting on enough chance already, you’d have to accomplish _before_ your stepmother notices you’re gone and raises the alarm. ‘Cuz after she does _nothing_ is departing the harbour until you’re found, stowaway or not.”

Arya deflated in dismay. “I… I hadn’t thought that far. I was… I was going on a step-by-step thing. Figured if I could get the boat… how do you know about the sentries anyway?”

“Watch posts need ironwork when they’re being built,” Gendry said as if it were obvious. “It was all hands on deck after the attack on Lady Starling, so I helped there instead of making weapons. I’m good with details so Lord Starling and Ser Addam had me making… what’s the word they used… oh, intricate keys! Hard to copy and mess with.”

“I can still make it! It’s dark, if I don’t have a light, they won’t see me! And I put pillows in my bed so if Ella peaks in she’ll think I’m asleep!”

“It’s a three-hour trip, Arya,” Gendry reminded her. “And that’s if the current is really helpful and you keep rowing. You can’t row, alone, that fast or for that long, your arms are too skinny.”

“Well, I’m a girl, I don’t spend all my days hammering swords or pulling dough.”

“Come on, let’s get back to the castle,” Gendry said. “I doubt you’re the only one who noticed anything wrong with the howling. Besides, d’you really want to do this to your stepmother and aunt?”

Nymeria nosed Arya’s arm, making her sigh. “You’re a little traitor, you know,” she said, burrowing her face on the she-wolf’s neck. “There’s something wrong with one of my brothers,” she said quietly. “I can feel it.”

“If that’s true, getting lost in the North is not going to help him,” Hot Pie said.

“The castle is the best place to be, Arya,” Gendry added. “You’re never going to make it to Castle Black before they send a raven.”

She nodded, breaking away from Nymeria and following Gendry and Hot Pie back through the village and up to the castle.

“Thank you,” Arya said at the courtyard. “I was about to do something very stupid and impulsive.”

“What are friends for?” Gendry asked.

“Here,” Hot Pie offered her a cinnamon roll. “To sweeten your night.”

“Thanks, boys,” she said with a smile.

“Lady Arya? Is something the matter?” a guard asked.

“No, nothing at all.”

With a last smile, she vanished inside the castle. Nymeria licked each of their faces, prompting laughs, before following.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Arya blushed when she walked into her chambers: Ella was sitting on her bed hugging a pillow to her chest.

“You know,” the woman started, “for a girl who doesn’t like silly nonsense, you do seem to have suddenly acquired a great love for Sansa’s frilly pillows.”

“They’re comfortable?” Arya mumbled.

Ella sighed. “Did you intend to drive me mad with worry?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you have a plan or just an urge to go?”

“Does it make a difference?” Arya asked, disconcerted.

“Yes, actually, it does.”

“I had an urge to go and a half-baked plan, which my friends convinced me was a stupid and reckless plan,” Arya confessed. “I truly am sorry. I just… there is something wrong, Ella!”

“I know. You were _not_ the only one who noticed it. Did you really think getting lost in the North would help? Did you really think that… if something bad did happen, you disappearing without a trace would help anyone or soothe our worries?”

“I’m sorry,” Arya mumbled, blushing and feeling very guilty for the distress she saw in her stepmother’s eyes. “I wasn’t thinking about that. I was just… I was being selfish and reckless.”

Ella exhaled, but reached to hug her. “I think it’s commendable that you want to protect your family, sweetie, but you can’t do it at your own expense. You have no idea of the dangers a two-and-ten-year-old girl would face on the way to Castle Black. I just want you to be safe and aware that your actions have consequences.”

Arya nodded and hugged her back just as strongly.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ser Barristan flinched and ducked when another cup flew by his head and across the room, smashing itself against a wall. Jaime rolled his eyes, bored.

“What do you mean, the Wall?” Robert asked with a slur.

“We received a raven just now, Your Grace,” Maester Byren repeated, unflinching, “in which Lord Stark stated his safe arrival at Castle Black, where he expected his eldest sons to return soon so Lord Robb and Lord Starling can report what they have found in the lands beyond the Wall and Lord Stark will negotiate with the Watch the matter of what is due to them in taxes.”

Robert belched. “Counting coppers!” he exclaimed loudly. “The ungrateful fucker is once again counting them fucking coppers!” He then stood up, scrambled to his bed, where he fell face first, and started snoring.

“Ser Barristan, may I return to the door?” Jaime asked.

“Go, go, and send for the squire,” Barristan said. He then noticed that the maester came closer to the bed. “Is something the matter, Maester?”

“Ser Barristan, I know that the care for His Grace falls to the Grand Maester, but I wonder if I may examine the King,” Maester Byren asked. “In your presence, of course.” Ser Barristan nodded, curious, and the maester opened the sleeping man’s eyes, hummed in displeasure, then came closer to check his breath. “Ser, Lord Stark trusts you, so I hope I may as well.”

“My interest is the safety of the Crown, Maester.”

“Who brings the wine for His Grace?”

“His squire,” the knight answered, confused. “A cousin of the— oh. You suspect him of altering the wine?”

“Not him, perhaps, but someone. Without a sample myself, I would say that it smells and looks like a simple enough herb is made into a tea and then mixed to the wine. It would make the King seem drunker more easily, and also exaggerate the effects of the wine. It would also cause greater dependence.”

Barristan nodded. Robert did seem to start getting drunker and drunker, much more than usual, overnight. “Can something be done about it?”

“He can’t be cut off wine suddenly or he’ll suffer,” the Maester stated. “But if you cut off the altered wine, it should help bring him back to normal.”

“I’m afraid our King has always had quite the kindness towards wine.”

“Regardless, this is likely to kill him if it is not stopped,” Maester Byren said. “Should I inform the Grand Maester? Lord Renly, perhaps?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Maester, I should like to handle it myself,” the knight said. “Until Lord Stark gets back and takes over.”

Maester Byren nodded, bowed his head, and left the room. Barristan stayed a moment longer, contemplating what to do. Pycelle was in Tywin Lannister’s pocket, likely to be into the scheme or at any rate unlikely to help; Renly was a hothead, who would likely declare war on the Lannisters without thinking of any consequences. With Ned Stark gone to the North, that left one person in King’s Landing who could prevent the disaster that Robert’s untimely death would cause. And Barristan cursed under his breath when he got to that conclusion. Involving Varys into this would be alike to making a deal with the devil. But it wasn’t like he had any other option. The Master of Ships was cunning, though, and had a taste for the game regardless of his northern roots… perhaps… but then again, Varys was privy to another little secret. He would know _why_ they couldn’t let any sort of chaos erupt, more than simply loyalty to their king. Why they needed to secure things and butcher others before Robert could die.

Barristan hated it, though. He was a knight, a soldier, not a politician. But in King’s Landing, in the game of thrones, you either played, or the game smothered you.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The room seemed unmoving. Dany had stopped sobbing, but tears still bathed her face as she sat next to the table, clutching Jon’s hand like a lifeline. Ned had slid against the wall to sit on the floor and was staring unseeing into his bloodied hands. Everyone else was just…

Addam brought out his sword when he heard the door opening, though he knew there were ten guards posted outside and many others patrolling the wing. Ser Davos rose a hand in surrender, the other holding a basket.

“Firewood,” he explained. “I thought… to last through the night.”

Addam nodded, sheathing the sword and going back to stand behind Dany. Ser Davos crossed the room to the fireplace and built up the fire, poking it until it roared back to life. He then noticed that the maester was shivering and took off his own cloak.

“Maester, can I…”

“You are very kind, Ser,” the old man replied. “But I’m afraid it won’t help now. This is not the warmth I need.”

“Would you allow me to escort you closer to the fire?” Davos insisted.

“That would be most kind, Ser, thank you.”

Uncountable moments later, there was another knock on the door and Melisandre walked in. She looked around, frowning when she saw Jon lying on the table.

“But this cannot be… I… I saw him. Fighting in the Riverlands.”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Ser Davos said, standing up, “but he won’t be fighting anymore. We should leave the family…”

“I have been to Essos,” Addam said suddenly, his throat raw and his voice unsteady. “I’ve seen what red priests can do. Can you fix this?”

Dany lifted her head, blinking. “Fix… but… how?”

“The Lord of Light is very powerful. If one has a powerful conductor as well… there is power in a king’s blood,” she whispered. “If the maester…”

“No, not my uncle,” Dany said, standing up but not letting go of her husband’s hand. “If it is Royal blood you need, here, have it,” she thrust her other arm forward.

The red woman smiled softly. Then she came closer to the table. Ned didn’t move from his stupor, but Benjen saw the potential danger of the situation.

“Royal blood?” he asked, giving Addam a look, but the knight was too busy staring at Melisandre.

“The Lord of Light is capable of many things,” the priestess said after a moment.

“Can — you — fix — this?” Addam asked again through his teeth.

“You…” Dany was shocked. “You mean you can bring him back?”

“I can perform the spell and say the words,” Melisandre said. “The Lord is the one who decides whether Lord Starling is worthy or not.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

* * *

 

 

My dear beloved readers,

Here is the sequel to the very evil cliffhanger from last week :D  I hope you guys enjoy. As usual, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it.

Our dear Allegra, the last news I have, is improving awesomely, so let's keep sending prayers and good vibes :D

I'll see you guys again next week :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melisandre explains her spell and Addam interrogates Thorne.

There was a sudden silence in the room as everyone absorbed Melisandre’s words.

“Do it,” Dany said. “Bring him back.”

“No,” Ned cut in with a thick voice.

“What?” Dany exclaimed.

“But Father!” Robb was also shocked.

“No. This is magic, _blood_ magic. There’s no telling the consequences.”

“He is your son!” Dany cried. “How can you not want him back?”

“He is my son!” Ned snapped back. “I have loved and protected him from the moment Ayla put him in my arms and I promised his mother he would be safe and loved. I failed in that promise, I broke my oath, and nothing will ever hurt more than this. He has my blood and I couldn’t… my heart is broken, irremediably broken, because he is gone. But we are not gods, Dany. We don’t have the power of life. Who is to say he will be back completely? That this won’t… what if he comes back wrong, Dany?”

“He will be back!” she exclaimed.

“But how? Will he be fully back? Will his body live, but his heart be ruined forever? You can’t predict it.”

“It’s worth the risk,” Dany insisted.

“Daenerys, I know how hard this is, trust me, I wish… I wish I would have kept him in his chambers or… or anything. But we can’t…”

“You needn’t concern yourself, Lord Stark,” Melisandre interrupted. “I am no feeble Essosi maege. The spell is absolute. He will be fully restored or he won’t be back at all. The Lord of Light does not give half blessings.”

“Dany, if it doesn’t work… if he doesn’t come back completely, are you prepared for the consequences? For having him alive, but not there with you?”

“What I know,” Dany said, stepping forward and taking one of Ned’s hands in hers, “is that my father died before I was born and from all I have heard, I was better off for it, awful as it is to say. But I had an amazing man to call father, so I was lucky. And it is because I know what having an amazing father is like that I can’t deny the same to my children. I can’t go back home and look at my babies and tell them their papa is not coming back. I just… I have to try. I can’t lose him. I can’t take him away from Little Addam and Lyanna.”

Ned shuddered when he heard his granddaughter’s name. His _sister’s_ name. He had made her a promise and he had failed.

“You are certain he will be perfect?” he asked.

“The Lord of Light is merciful, Lord Stark,” Melisandre replied. “He does not believe in broken promises. If the Lord judges Lord Starling worthy, he will be restored completely. He won’t be back only halfway.”

Ned closed his eyes for a moment. “You said you needed king’s blood. Will it harm Lady Starling?”

“No. I only need a few drops of her blood when I say the spell.”

He nodded and exhaled. “Then do it.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Littlefinger was crackling his knuckles, deep in thought. Things in Casterly Rock had to be really direr than anyone would have imagined possible for the ruthless Lord Tywin Lannister to be moving so slowly and cautiously. Especially when his daughter, the Queen, had been shamefully exiled from the capital. For much less, it had rained on Castamere.

He had thought, after Ned Stark’s ironic rejection of Tywin’s proposed law, that the damage would finally be done, that he would have finally seen lions and wolves at war and the realm drowned in chaos. But again his hopes had been bashed. The war was veiled at best, even if assassins had been sent to Winterfell and the Blessed Island and the dwarf had changed sides.

It did not help that Littlefinger’s spies in the North were so unhelpful. Varys used his little birds, but the Master of Coin preferred to use his whores. However, they were absolutely useless when it came to Starks and their honourable foolhardiness. Robb Stark had stopped frequenting brothels after his betrothal had been set, so that source was lost. He had snippets provided by Theon Greyjoy, but the stupid ironborn was a hostage and seemed to enjoy talking about himself more than giving details about the castle and its comings and goings. Jon Starling was every bit as faithful as his father. Or even more so, considering the bastard had no bastards of his own. Baelish’s planted whores in the small brothels in the Midnight Village and Sunstone Town were able to discover next to nothing from the guards and soldiers, as they really gave out no useful information.

With no northern source or opening, Littlefinger had been left with the option of helping the Lannisters. Cautiously, of course, since he needed the cover to turn coat if he must. For a few moons now he had been helping Tywin Lannister in his plan to slowly intoxicate Robert with his own beloved wine. And though he knew the Warden of the West was plotting something else, he was still in the dark about it. Perhaps not for long.

“Lord Kevan!” Littlefinger exclaimed as the man was led to his solar. “What an honour to have you in my establishment.”

“I do not have time for chit chat, Lord Baelish,” the blond said, taking a seat. “You sent word to my brother about Ned Stark’s departure.”

“Yes, my lord. I understand communications are a bit harder now that Stark’s planted his own maester to oversee the ravens, but I thought the opportunity was interesting. There is no telling when the King will be so vulnerable again. Perhaps this would be the perfect time to ensure the Hand’s position becomes once again vacant.”

“It is true that it is a good opportunity, Lord Baelish,” Kevan said. “But Ned Stark’s departure was too sudden. They designed too many alliances and there is the inconvenience of the Master of Ships being a northerner. We must wait I'm afraid. We have seen proof that Stark is not too worried about leaving his post to visit his family and homeland. Another opportunity should arise soon enough.”

“I see,” Littlefinger pursed his lips displeased. “If I might, my lord, offer a piece of information. I have discovered a little on the terms of the betrothal between Robb Stark and Margaery Tyrell: they are to be wed shortly after her sixteenth name day, which is to happen in the second moon of the coming year. Right now all they have is a promise, an easily broken betrothal. After they are wed, there is a blood duty, a solid alliance not easily broken.”

“Yes, yes, I do understand how marriage alliances work, Lord Baelish,” Kevan said irritably. That was a complication he hadn’t thought of before. He imagined the girl was younger still. “Very well, I’m boarding a ship to Lannisport early in the morning. I shall send a message to my brother before I go, though do not expect any answer in less than a moon. If Eddard Stark is really at the Wall, I believe we shall have a little bit of time. I doubt he won't stop by Winterfell.”

With that, Kevan stood up and left. Petyr drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. He _needed_ a spy in the North. He needed to make sure Ned Stark would visit Winterfell and stay there. Because if the Lannisters took over the Handship, then they’d be able to retaliate against the Warden of the North. That way, lions and wolves would fight each other and, in their mutual destruction, Littlefinger could plot his own rising.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Melisandre said her spell would be better performed at night, for light thrives better when it triumphs over darkness, or whatever other mystical nonsense she was claiming now. Dany refused to give up her position on the chair, clutching Jon’s hand desperately as it grew ever colder. Robb took his place across from her, staring at his brother’s face as if Jon would wake through his sheer will.

Midway through the morning, Dany finally gave in to her exhaustion, falling asleep with her head on Jon’s arm. Her dreams were confusing, flashes of colourful chaos, until it settled. _Another vision_ , she thought when she recognised the bailey at Winterfell. It was silent and empty, except for one horse.

“Winter?” she called, frowning. The mare looked up from the hay she was eating at her name and gladly accepted Dany’s rubbing of her nose. Than the woman noticed she was fully saddled.

“She is very cute when she wants to be, isn't she?” asked another female voice.

Dany turned and recognised her company: the grey eyes and the long face of the Starks, dark brown hair braided intricately to be kept away from her face, she looked the same as from her other dream, years ago, before her wedding.

“Lyanna,” Dany whispered and the woman smiled.

She was not wearing the same blue dress or her garland of winter roses, the garland Dany came to discover had ultimately led to war, though she was every bit as elegant, and Dany could see some flowers and blue silk woven in her braids. She was wearing breeches, a tunic, a gambeson, and even mail. She looked like a knight.

“Why am I dreaming with you again?” Dany asked.

Lyanna smiled coyly, as if privy to a delicious secret. “I believe you are somewhat knowledgeable about green dreams and dragon dreams, Dany. This is… something like that.”

“Something like a dragon dream?”

“The Red Woman is right, Dany. There is power in a king’s blood. You have Royal blood, Royal Valyrian blood. There is magic in your blood, Dany, the magic of dragons. And you are in one of the most magical places in the world, which is by itself is a powerful conductor. And that is how we are talking.”

“Are you here to tell me something, then?”

“Oh, dearest, I wish I could. There are a few things I wish to tell you. But I can’t. We don’t even have enough time,” Lyanna said, going to Winter. “Would you mind taking a message back to the world of the living for me?”

“Of course not!”

“Tell my big brother he’s a stubborn idiot and beloved Benjen was right: I would slap him very painfully. But I also forgive him. He hasn’t broken his promise.”

“What promise?” Dany asked and Lyanna only smiled.

“Tell him that and Ned will understand. Be sure to tell him I understand he is worried about his son, but that Jon will be fine. And tell Arthur to stop being so hard on himself. He failed no one. But I’m afraid I must go now.”

“Where?”

“Where do I look like I'm going?” she asked, going up on the saddle as effortlessly as breathing.

“You look like you’re ready for battle, actually,” Dany said.

“I am, dear, I am,” Lyanna said with another smirk. “I'm ready to battle for Jon.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are as much a Stark as you are a Targaryen, Dany, always remember that,” Lyanna said. “And even more than any other bride, because you were raised at Winterfell as part of the pack. And in the pack, we protect each other. I’ll keep him safe until your priestess can bring him back.”

“He can really come back?” Dany asked, but Lyanna had already kicked Winter into moving and left the bailey. She watched the pair go, jumping over the half-wall to the main courtyard like it was merely an inch tall, vanishing through the gate in a gust of wind and a pattering of hooves. Hullen was right, Dany thought. Jon and Arya are really very much like their aunt on the back of a horse: no one could hope to keep up with them.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Mormont groaned in pain as Maester Aemon probed on the back of his head. He was still a bit groggy and his head was pulsing with pain.

“I will have someone bring you a pack of ice to put on that bump, Lord Commander,” the maester said. “It should help to bring the swelling down. Are you in too much pain?”

“Well, it isn't comfortable,” the man complained.

“I’m certain,” Aemon said. “But I cannot give you milk of the poppy. Head wounds are always too worrying. You remember what happened?”

“Aye,” Mormont confirmed. “It felt like I was moving too slow… everything happened so fas! If Starling hadn’t come in… I guess it’s twice now I owe him my life. Thorne decided it was more important to stop the lord than to kill me, so I guess he only knocked me out.”

“Well, if Thorne really wanted to kill you, Lord Commander, then I wouldn’t put it past him to have doused your ale. I’ll check it later, though it might be best to just get rid of it.”

“What happened while I was out?”

Maester Aemon took a deep breath. “Ser Addam took over the keep’s security and has commanded Starling and Stark men to keep guard, the Tyrells are also helping. The brothers are confined to their rooms and the ones found in your solar have been taken to the ice cells.”

“Ser Addam took command?” Mormont asked, frowned. “Wait… what happened in that room?”

“Ser Alliser…” Aemon faltered. “Thorne ki… killed Lord Starling.”

“Oh, the bastard!” Mormont exclaimed, deeply sad. “As much as I want to wring the cunt’s neck myself, I’ll throw him to the wolves. Let Lord Stark get justice.” He exhaled. “Lord Starling didn’t deserve this. And now… fuck, this may very well turn the North against us!”

“I’m quite certain Lord Stark won't rise against the Watch because of one treacherous brother. And… and there is a Red Priestess here who says she can undo it.”

“Undo… you mean she can bring him back?”

“That is what she claims,” Maester Aemon said. “You should rest, Lord Commander. No getting out of bed for the next few days. We need you fully recovered when Mance Rayder returns. The gods know what kind of distrust will this arise in the Free Folk against us.”

The maester left and Mormont sighed. He was right, of course, the wildlings would certainly be even more wary of this deal now that such treason had happened. He would need to purge the discontent brothers harshly, or be at risk of an even bloodier mess.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Addam didn’t move when he heard the man groan in pain as he woke up. His blood was boiling in anger, sadness, failure, but most of all, grief. The weak morning sunrays coming through the window reflected off his armour after the traitor had scrambled to a sitting position, making him easily visible.

“Ah!” the traitor said. “Were you sent to cry for your bastard lordling? I see my accommodations are different than usual.”

“I wanted to get you alone, away from the others. No one to overhear.”

“Ah, I see. So this will be painful.”

“I won’t lay one hand on you,” Addam said with a hard voice.

Ser Alliser snorted. “Too craven for it?”

“Oh, no. I do have the guts to break your face in half. But I won't. Because if I do, I’ll likely lose my temper, and unlike you, I don’t fight unarmed men.”

“You don’t know what happened in that room.”

“No. But I know Jon. I train with him everyday. There is no way he would have fallen, fighting, without giving you at least a few bruises. There were four of you in that room. Not a hard equation to unscramble.”

“There is no pain you can inflict on me that will be greater than the pride of serving my Queen. I did it for the honour of House Targaryen.”

It was Addam’s turn to snort. “Oh, you simpleminded, stupid fool! You are wrong, and in so many ways. As I said, I won't lay one hand on you. But by the end of our conversation, I suspect I will have inflicted on you more pain than you have ever felt in your entire lifetime.” He stepped closer to the still smiling man. “You were a strong presence in Court at Dragonstone, were you not, Ser Alliser?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“So when I do this,” Addam continued, reaching through the layers of armour and clothes to get to his wrist and untying the bracelet, “you’ll probably notice a little something.”

Thorne frowned for a moment, staring from the bracelet up to his face, but then his expression slackened. “You… you can’t… you can't be…”

“Oh, but I am.”

“You… you have been protecting her…”

“Her as well, of course, though you might have noticed who I was shadowing,” Addam said and Thorne frowned again. “You see, when Ned Stark first proposed this plan, I thought it was ludicrous. That no one, or at least none of the key players, would be dumb enough to fall for it. I’m rarely wrong, though I suppose it was for the best that I was in this case. You see, I didn’t think anyone would believe that Ned Stark went south to find his sister and came back with her bones and a baby boy he claimed as son. I thought someone was bound to suspect something. That no one would believe that the honourable Lord Stark, who was so glaringly different from his usurper friend, who denied whores at camp, would come back with a bastard boy in hand. He was right, in the end. No one did suspect it. No one looked twice at the boy. No one thought it strange.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You speak so highly of your devotion to House Targaryen, do you really think Prince Rhaegar would be capable of what the Usurper accused him of? Of kidnapping and raping the daughter of a Great House?”

“No… no, I never believed that… not sure anyone did… even the Usurper’s supporters.”

“Because the Prince didn’t take her. She came willingly.”

“Of course she did.”

“And they were married,” Addam revealed and Ser Alliser went pale. “Oh, I see you’re putting things together. Rhaegar and Lyanna were married. Then Ned Stark goes to find his sister and comes back to Court with her bones and a newborn baby he claims as son. Nearly twenty years later, you find that boy, now a man, protected by a Kingsguard. Please tell me you follow the logic.”

“You… I… but… the…”

“You speak of honour to House Targaryen, Ser Alliser,” Addam said, standing up, “and yet you made House Targaryen vulnerable again. You killed your King, you betrayed House Targaryen. We had everything in place for a restoration. But now… now the King is dead, the Queen is vulnerable, and the heir is a toddler. Twenty years of work, wasted down the drain. Rhaegar’s last son lost. And without the cover of a northern bastard protecting them… if the Usurper doesn’t call for their heads, the Lannisters will send their men. I hope you die easily with that on your head.”

And with that Addam refastened the bracelet around his wrist and left the room. Before the door closed, he heard the fallen knight sobbing in pure agony. He wanted to relish in the man’s pain, but even with Melisandre’s promise his heart was so broken, he didn’t have the strength.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Varys smirked as he heard Ser Barristan’s words.

“And you are asking for my interference?”

The knight rolled his eyes. “As much as I detest it, yes. If Robert dies right now, the Lannisters will take control of the continent before we can move to bring the rightful king here. We need to wait at least until Lord Stark is back. Then he can hold the city.”

“You’re right, of course. There are still too many Lannister men in the Red Keep, not to mention Renly Baratheon. If Robert dies right now, we will have to crown Joffrey, what will present an infinite number of problems until Lord Stark is back, not to mention that it might provide the Lannisters enough time to take over the capital. On the other hand, if Robert dies and we claim Joffrey’s illegitimacy, Renly will wrestle the crown onto his own head and then the Lannisters will respond in kind and we will have another bloody war. Even if he doesn’t, Stannis will come and take over and it will be another bloody war to get them out. So yes, we need Robert to breathe his stupidity and foolishness for a little while longer.”

“Will you take care of the wine, then?” Barristan asked, still uncomfortable.

“Yes, of course,” Varys said. “Leave it to me, Ser, I shall make sure the King lives for now.”

Barristan shivered and left the room with goose bumps rising on his arm. There was always something shifty and dangerous about Varys. He truly hoped he had not just done the contrary to what he intended.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Margaery walked softly into the room, settling the extra blankets in an empty chair out of the way. Lord Stark was still standing stiffly, leaning on the wall and staring at the table where his son lay lifeless. The two chairs next to each side of the table were taken by Robb and Daenerys.

So she took one of the blankets and stepped closer to the man she would one day call Father. “My lord, you should get some rest.”

“Not until he wakes,” Ned replied just as stiffly as his stance.

“Melisandre won't perform the spell until evenfall. Get some rest until then, at least,” Margaery insisted.

The direwolf nudged him with his snout, to no result. So Margaery sighed and unfolded the blanket. “I'm fine,” Ned said. “I'm not cold.”

“I'm sure,” she said placating, pulling his hand to make him step away from the wall. Though Ned wasn’t too keen, the wolf pushed him again and he relented, allowing the young woman to wrap the blanket around his shoulders. Benjen accepted his blanket quietly, only nodding his head in lieu of thanking — Margaery hadn’t seen him utter even one word since Melisandre’s announced her spell. She smiled softly as she passed Maester Aemon, who was sitting on the chair by the fire again, his head falling forward as he dozed lightly.

Margaery knew better than attempting to reason with Daenerys, so she didn’t even try, merely wrapping another blanket around her. The lady raised her head from its resting place against her husband’s hand, acknowledging the gesture with an owlish blink. Then the southerner took the last blanket and crossed to Robb, who sat unmoving, watching his brother’s face.

“I’m too numb to feel cold,” he whispered, though he didn’t complain.

“It’s alright. I am cold, though,” she said, sitting on his lap and wrapping the blanket around them both.

“You should rest…” Robb whispered into her ear. “And this isn't proper.”

“He is my brother too,” she said just as quietly, fitting her head in the curve of his neck. “Fuck propriety.”

Several moments later, Addam returned to the room.

“I have just interrogated Ser Alliser,” he announced. “He is ready for his sentence.”

“We should wait for Jon,” Daenerys said. “So he can look into his eyes.”

“Ser Alliser doesn’t deserve this absolution, my lady. He doesn’t deserve to die knowing it was undone.”

“You told him?” Benjen asked with a raw voice.

“He knows what he’s done,” was all Addam answered.

“Good,” Ned said strongly. “Have the courtyard ready. I will…”

But Addam shook his head. “Dany?” he called softly and she finally looked up again, her eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. “I don’t wish to put any pressure on you. But he said he did what he did it for the honour of House Targaryen. To restore your honour, so Jon’s birth status wouldn’t shame you anymore. If you would like—”

“If you don’t mind, Father,” she cut in, steel in her voice, “this traitor’s crime was against House Starling. And I would answer it.”

Ned nodded, hating the look on her face, but knowing she couldn’t be denied.

“What will you do?” Robb asked.

“He did for House Targaryen, did he not?” Dany snapped. “Then I shall answer with Fire & Blood. Addam, have the courtyard ready.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ser Alliser was beyond caring about anything now. He had known that he was going to pay for his deed from the moment the direwolf had burst into the room and stopped them. With Mormont still alive, without the Night's Watch under his own command, he was doomed. His plan had failed. He wanted to kill Mormont to take control of the Night's Watch and prevent the abomination of allowing the wildlings south, what he knew would gather enough support from the northern lords that would keep him safe from an attack from the south, especially if House Mormont took offence. Then Jon Starling had come into the room and his blood had boiled and he had not thought it through too much of the repercussions. Only that he must defend the honour of Daenerys Targaryen. After Ser Arthur had come… he had betrayed his King, however unknowingly, therefore he deserved the punishment of traitors.

Two Starling guards dragged him from the room he’d been kept in to the courtyard, ‘Addam’ following them closely behind. The black brothers on the way cursed him, called him traitor and worse, and he couldn’t care. He saw the five wildlings that had returned with Mormont’s group, but he was so miserable he couldn’t even muster his disgust for them. Then, on his way to the raised platform, he saw her. His Queen: beautiful, lovely, and stoic. She looked so much like her lovely mother… Maester Aemon stood next to her, equally as stone-faced and Alliser felt his stomach sink: he would face judgment from the surviving Targaryens.

“Ser Alliser Thorne, brother of the Night's Watch,” Daenerys started once he had been forced to his knees in front of her and Addam took his place next to her. “You stand here accused of attempting to murder Lord Commander Mormont in order to take over control of the Night's Watch. How do you plead?”

There was a rumble of whispers from the black brothers as Ser Alliser plead guilty.

“You stand here,” Daenerys continued, “accused of murdering my lord husband, Ser Jon of House Starling, Lord of the Midnight Fortress and the Blessed Island when he walked in and prevented the murder of Lord Commander Mormont. How do you plead?”

“Guilty, my Lady Starling,” Ser Alliser replied quietly, his head down.

“You are declaring your plead to the audience, Ser,” Addam said, restraining from kicking him. “They must hear you.”

“Guilty!” the fallen man yelled.

“When you were questioned earlier this morning, you told Ser Addam that you committed this odious crime for the honour of House Targaryen. Do you stand by this statement?” Daenerys asked.

“Yes,” he answered and saw pure, raw anger and disgust on her face. He had never wished to cause her pain, his beloved and chosen Queen, but it seemed that with his folly, his ignorance of the truth, he had destroyed more than her chances to reach for a crown — he had destroyed her heart.

“You dare murder my lord husband and claim it was to honour me,” Daenerys spoke through her teeth, quietly enough that only those on their level heard. “You take my children’s father from them and you offend me by saying it was in my name. You are a disgrace to your name, Ser. And you disgrace House Targaryen with your false loyalty.”

Ser Alliser lowered his head even more, shame and failure drowning him. All he wanted was to serve his chosen ruler, and yet, he had done the exact opposite. There were whispers across the courtyard now.

“As the senior-most person of Targaryen blood,” Maester Aemon said and the whispers rose. “I shun you. The crime you committed was hideous and abominable and we do not stand for it. You stained the honour of House Targaryen with your crime, Ser, and for that, House Targaryen calls for your punishment.”

“Would any of the present speak for this man?” Daenerys asked. No one answered and once again silence took over. “Then for the crime of murder I, Daenerys Stormborn, in name of House Starling, House Stark, and House Targaryen, sentence you, Ser Alliser Thorne of the Night's Watch, to death,” she declared loud and clear, no trembling in her voice.

The guards brought a block and Addam stepped up to her. “You don’t have to watch this. Go back to Jon.”

“Not yet,” she replied. _I’m as much a Stark as a Targaryen_ , she thought. “In the North, our way is the old way. I have sentenced him. If I cannot stand to see him dead by my order, then he does not deserve to die.”

Ned curved the side of his mouth in the semblance of the shadow of a smile. Then he took Ice from the scabbard Benjen offered and went to the block, severing the man’s head in one clean swing of the sword. Daenerys swallowed back bile as she watched the head falling down, the blood squirting everywhere. The sight really was gruesome.

“Are you alright?” Ned asked.

“He confessed his crime, accepted his guilt, and he was punished according to the laws of the land.” She took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. “Let him ask forgiveness to his gods, for I have none to offer.”

Then she grabbed her skirts and left quickly.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dearest readers!
> 
> So, I caught a very nasty flu and I couldn't write all of last week, but I'm on the mend now so here's the new chapter :)
> 
> To help you with the timeline, we are in late 299, roughly three years after we begun, and here are the ages:  
> Jon: 17 (almost 18)  
> Dany: 17  
> Robb: 18  
> Margaery: 15  
> Sansa: 13  
> Arya: 12  
> Bran: 11  
> Rickon: 7  
> Lyanna: nearly 2  
> Little Addam, Cregan, and Rickard: around 6 months
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated :)
> 
> Also, Allegra is awake! And more awesome yet, she's out of the ICU! She's still got a bit of recovering ahead of her so let's keep sending her good thoughts and our prayers!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany shares a dark thought that has been bothering her; after another long night, Lyanna tells Ayla about a dream.

Margaery rushed after Daenerys as soon as she had turned away to leave, following her all the way up the tower to the bedroom she had been occupying. She was breathing hard, shaking all over.

“Shhh, my dear, don’t be like that!” Margaery said, drawing the lady into a hug.

“My husband is dead!” Dany cried. “How else should I be?”

“He is going to come back, Dany. And Lord Stark would never let anyone harm you or the children.”

Dany started laughing hysterically. “My husband, the love of my life, is dead and I have to worry that his murderer wanted to restore my honour and that the same fat oaf that killed my brother and usurped my father’s throne now might just call for my head and my children’s!”

“Shhhh!” Margaery cautioned. The guards outside were Starling, Stark, or Tyrell men, none of them loyal to Robert Baratheon, but these were still too dangerous words. “I understand, my friend, but right now you need to have hope, Dany. Right now you have to pray to the gods for a miracle and Melisandre will perform her spell and Jon will be back.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Dany asked with a small voice.

“He will!” Margaery stated strongly. “Dany, if you let despair and hopelessness overtake you now, then all is already lost. You have to have hope and faith.”

Dany nodded. “I should… I should go back…”

“Take a moment, sweetie. Garlan has been with Jon the whole time and now that it’s over I'm sure the room is crowded again. Take a moment to breathe. You are going through an awful ordeal. The worst of them.”

Dany nodded again and accepted the comforting hug of her friend for a few more moments.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned had quickly cleaned the blood off of Ice, asking Jory to put it back in his room under guard and left the emptying courtyard after Daenerys, leaving Benjen and Addam to take care of burning the body while Robb rushed back to Jon’s side. The guards posted all over the King’s Tower let him know she had not gone back to the Lord Commander’s solar, which they had taken as temporary infirmary, but to the bedchamber she was occupying.

“I will leave you,” Margaery said with a smile once he had been admitted into the room, placing a kiss on Dany’s forehead, and going back to her betrothed.

“I am sorry you had to do that, Dany,” Ned said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from her. She only shook her head. “Daenerys, I have raised you. I know when something is wrong. What is it?”

She blushed deeply. “I ah… oh, I had a… I think you could call it a vision, this morning,” she said, glad for the distraction.

“A vision?” Ned asked. “Like a dragon dream? Jon said you had those sometimes.”

“She said it was something like a dragon dream, but not quite.”

“She?”

“Yes, she ah…” Dany bit her lower lip, thinking on how to best approach the subject. “I was in Winterfell, in the bailey. At first, I thought I was alone, then I saw Winter eating some hay and…”

“Lyanna,” Ned whispered, going pale.

“Yes,” Dany said. “She said… she asked me to tell you that… well… these are her words, not mine…”

“Not to worry,” Ned said with a small scoff. “I'm certain she was disappointed. Did she call me the worst brother in the world? An oath breaker?”

“Quite the contrary actually,” Dany said with a frown. “She asked me to tell you that you are a stubborn idiot and Uncle Benjen was right, that she would slap you very painfully, but she also forgives you. That you haven’t broken your promise.”

“She said that?”

“Yes,” Dany nodded. “She didn’t say what promise, but she said you would understand.”

“I do,” Ned said weakly, his eyes filling with unshed tears. Daenerys couldn’t know about this, about him making Lyanna a promise or what Benjen thought of it, so of course she wasn’t making it up — not that he thought she would.

“She also asked me to be sure to tell you that she understands you are worried about your son, but that Jon will be fine.”

His heart failed a beat. “She said that?” he asked and Dany nodded, frowning with his unexpected reaction. “She said that with these words?”

“Yes, she did. Why? What difference…?”

But the tears were rushing down his face now. Daenerys couldn’t understand the weight of these words. _He is worried about his son_. Lyanna had told him she recognised his role in Jon’s life even without giving the secret away.

“What…” He cleared his throat. “What else did she say?”

“Only something for Addam. Oh, and that she was going to battle for Jon. That she would keep him safe until Melisandre brought him back.”

“Aye, that is easy enough to believe,” Ned said with a chuckle. He could picture it easily: Lyanna, dressed like a knight, ready to battle for her son. And woe betide the creature that attempted to get in her way!

“She was dressed like a knight.” Dany chuckled as well.

“Aye, she would be. She liked dresses well enough for dances, she liked how they twirled in a ballroom, but on the daily life… let’s just say Arya takes very much after her aunt. Anything else?” he asked, craving to hear of his sister.

“Only that…” Dany blushed. “That I am as much a Stark as I am a Targaryen.”

He smiled. “You didn’t need Lyanna to tell you that, Daenerys. I hope you already felt part of the family.” She blushed and looked away, going as far as taking her hands from his and standing up to go to the window. “I see now that we arrived at the point that is distressing you.”

“Is it not enough that my lord husband is dead?” she asked.

“Aye, I dare say that is quite enough. But I think there is something else. You were not this disconcerted before.”

“It is nothing, Father,” she answered in a shy whisper.

Ned went after her, turned her around to face him, squeezed her hands, and then lifted her chin softly. “In the capital, I have been called a hopeless liar enough times. And I proudly know that I cannot lie, nor have I taught the skill to any of my children.”

Dany finally broke down in sobs and Ned soothed her for a few moments as she recovered a bit.

“I am so very proud to say I have been raised by Ned Stark,” she finally confessed in a shaking voice.

“But?” he asked with a raised brow.

“But we cannot fool ourselves and forget that I have been sired by another man.”

“He died before he could inflict any of his madness on you, Dany.”

“Perhaps. But they say madness is in the Targaryen blood. What if I have inherited his madness? What if I did inherit his cruelty?”

“You did not.”

“You can’t know that!”

“Aye, I can. Dany, listen…”

“I liked it!” she exclaimed. “I mean the sight of it was gruesome, but I enjoyed seeing Thorne dead. I enjoyed the rush of power it gave me, knowing that he was dead because I had commanded it so. His death brought me pleasure. Doesn’t that make me as mad as the Mad King?”

Ned put one hand on her shoulder and forced her to look at him. “No, Dany, it does not. Thorne committed an odious crime, he murdered your lord husband cowardly and then claimed it was to honour you. You can't be blamed for being happy he has paid for his crime. This is not madness, this is not cruelty. We’re human, Dany. You said it in the courtyard: he admitted to his guilt and you followed the law of the land. You didn’t abuse your power, you didn’t take his life for nothing.”

“I just…”

“Daenerys, power can either be a vengeful mistress or a source of solace. Power can turn you into a cherished leader or an evil tyrant. Power is the potential and only that. You are the one who makes the choice, that decides what to do with your power. Your father abused his power and used it for evil. What you did today has nothing to do with that. Sometimes… sometimes we must to terrible things in the name of justice. That doesn’t mean that _we_ are terrible, only that the situation is.”

“But what if—”

“My dear girl, do you want proof that you are not mad and cruel? Look around you, Dany! Look how many people love you, how many people you love! How you worry about your servants, how you built their children a park, how you treat them fairly. If I went to the Blessed Island right now, in disguise, and asked anyone from the castle or the village what they thought of you, I am quite certain ‘mad’ and ‘cruel’ would be the last things I would hear.”

She sighed, moved, and started crying again. Ned pulled her into a hug, letting her exorcise the doubt that was plaguing her.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Benjen took the torch and lit the pyre, watching with morbid delight as the fire consumed wood and the traitor’s body in its purging destruction.

“It was a good call, telling him,” Benjen said quietly to Addam, who stood next to him.

“I figured he deserved to know what he really did,” the knight replied. “And may that haunt him through eternity. That and my other idea had been to cut off his arms and beat him bloody with them. Oh, well, I could still have done both. Talk about a missed opportunity.”

“Did he really believe you?” Benjen asked with a small smile. That would have been quite the sight.

“Yes,” Addam said. “He seemed quite tormented actually.”

“Good.” Benjen threw the torch in the now blazing pyre. “I think there was no greater punishment for one like him.”

Addam nodded and they were silent for several moments.

“How are you, really? You’ve been too quiet.”

“So have you,” Benjen said back.

“I'm a soldier. I don’t have room for emotion,” Addam replied.

Benjen snorted. “Aye, I'm sure. Well, I’m a soldier as well.” He exhaled. “I thought, after the Rebellion, that I had gotten used to the black hole of loss inside my heart. But life is a fucking mess. That black hole just keeps on growing. Why do we even bother caring about others?”

“My late lady mother once said, when I announced I was going to accept the white cloak, that we weren’t built for loneliness. That loss is terrible and dark and consumes us, but it only hurts because we feel. Solitude is a silent enemy. It encroaches on you and takes you down before you even realise.”

Benjen clenched his jaw, fighting the truth of the words. After the Rebellion, for fifteen years he had been reclusive in the rebuilding of the Midnight Fortress, feeling a breath of fresh air every time he went to Winterfell and saw his nieces and nephews, but otherwise fighting the suffocating loneliness every day. Then Jon and Dany moved into their home and brought a hurricane of fresh air with them. He could never go back to solitude, he knew, not when he had known happiness with a lovely wife, not when he had held his son in his arms.

“I think she was right,” Addam continued. “Loss is terrible and dark and it fucking kills us from the inside. But after a decade and a half alone in exile, I know that it’s loving that gives us strength to fight.”

“Aye,” Benjen agreed easily. “It’s only when you love what you fight for that you care to protect it.”

“Yes. And that is why I was all the way in Dorne following Rhaegar’s commands and protecting your sister rather than standing at my post by the Iron Throne. That is why, in the end, Aerys lost. People were fighting for House Targaryen because they loved Rhaegar. But once he fell, not one of them could fight for Aerys.”

Addam threw his torch on the pyre and turned around, returning to the castle. Benjen stayed for a moment longer, watching the fire destroy and cleanse in a hypnotising dance.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Arya threw herself face-first on the bed, huffing in pure annoyance. Regardless of her relative calm the night before, this morning after breakfast Ella had brought the girl back to her chambers and locked her inside, saying she was going to be grounded for a full week for attempting to run away. She could have her meals with the family, but otherwise she was confined to her rooms. There was even a guard posted on the balcony directly beneath Arya’s, another at the foot of the tree, so that escape was truly impossible. Sometimes the girl hated her stepmother’s ingenuity — Septa Mordane was infinitely easier to fool.

It wasn’t even time for lunch yet, and Arya was already bored out of her mind. And her worry about what was happening up at Castle Black was not helping anything. Nymeria had been outside when Ella brought the girl back upstairs and, in a way, it was better: it made no sense for the two of them to be locked up. Especially because Nymeria had clearly disapproved of the plan, going as far as bringing Gendry and Hot Pie to convince Arya to stay in the island.

She flopped to her back, huffing again. She needed to find something to do. Otherwise, she might just go crazy. Needle had been confiscated as part of the punishment, so she couldn’t even put in some training; she would rather stare at the ceiling for the entire seven days than take on some needle work; she could play no instruments, so that wasn’t going to help either; perhaps Maester Wolkan had some interesting books? Dany had bought a collection of Valyrian books in— oh! There was something that would fill her time! Dany had left, but her High Valyrian tutor was still here. Perhaps learning a new language would be time consuming enough to provide enough distraction. And Syrio was from Braavos, so they could speak in Valyrian during their training sessions when she returned to King's Landing! And since it was studying, Ella wasn’t going to deny her, not like Septa Mordane would deny “foreign evils”. And then Arya would be able to read the books Dany had bought in the capital, the ones with stories from the Valyrian Freehold, with dragons, and dragon riders, and bloody conquest. Aye, that would be a good new thing to learn!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Melisandre brought a hunk of ice into the room and had a guard set a brazier next to the table by Jon’s head.

“Magic has been growing weaker since the Doom and ever more after the last dragon died,” she explained. “To be able to perform a spell this big without a worthy sacrifice, we must use what conductors we find. The Wall was built with magic, it has ancient spells woven in its foundation. That, in addition to the Royal blood given by Lady Starling, will provide enough power to the spell.”

She set the icicle on the table and then asked for Addam and Robb’s help to remove Jon’s jacket and jerkin, leaving his chest bare. Then she took a cloth and cleaned the wound, washing it clean of the now dried blood. Afterwards, she used some tweezers to cut a tuff of hair that she threw on the brazier, sparkling the fire.

“Lady Starling, if you would,” Melisandre called, offering Jon’s dagger that had been lying on the table.

Dany took the blade and made a thin cut on the palm of her hand, letting the blood flow and fall onto the fire, which rose stronger. Melisandre chanted some words in Valyrian and then threw the cloth with Jon’s blood, making the fire rise and engulf Dany’s hand. She felt her sleeve catch on fire, but didn’t move her hand, still feeling the blood flow, getting gasps from everybody in the room. The Priestess blinked in shock: she knew there was power in a king’s blood, but she didn’t expect the fire to rise quite as much. And there was the not so small detail of how Daenerys wasn’t even fazed by the fire.

But Melisandre recovered in a moment, finishing saying the words of the spell and throwing the icicle on the brazier, making the fire grow even bigger, roaring into an impossible size. Dany quickly recoiled: as fireproof as she was, the addition of the chunk of ice finally made her feel the burning sensation, otherwise unknown to her.

“Is it done?” she asked Melisandre.

“Yes,” she replied once she finished her chanting. “It is now for the Lord of Light to grant his mercy.”

But the Priestess was intrigued. She had never performed the ritual herself, that much was true, but she had seen it done once and had been taught the words. She didn’t remember seeing or hearing about this reaction to fire. And nothing could quite explain Daenerys’ resistance to the flames. It seemed that Targaryens weren’t using force of expression when they called themselves dragons after all. But then…

Why had the fire grown so much when she had added Jon Starling’s blood to the spell? Why had the addition of the ice chunk enlarged it even more? She had counted on the magic of the Wall, but… perhaps she had underestimated the power from the mythical Children of the Forest. That was the only reasonable explanation. After all, Starks hadn’t been kings in three hundred years. Of course the king’s blood in Jon Starling was too weak. It wasn’t like he was a king himself, was it?

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The room was dark and silent, the pre-dawn darkness drowning everything in cold tension. Melisandre had performed the spell once the night was dark enough, but for hours there had been no change. Dany had her head buried on Jon’s arm, praying for this miracle to come true. It had been over a day already and every moment longer made fear grown in her heart.

The day was breaking outside, amidst an ever-worsening snowstorm, when the fire in the burner next to Jon’s head flickered. Ghost lifted his head from Dany’s lap and stood to attention, making everyone else shift their position in anticipation. For the longest of moments nothing happened and the crackle of the fire was deafening with everyone holding their breaths. But then energy crackled and Jon suddenly gasped awake, breathing heavily as if he had been suffocating.

Dany cried out in relief and joy, throwing her arms around him. Jon blinked, trying to get his thoughts in order, squeezing his wife in his arms to anchor himself in reality. As he heaved in deep breaths, his mind cleared and he looked around the room they were in. Robb, Margaery, Addam, Maester Aemon, Uncle Benjen, and Father were all around him and looking more relieved than he had ever seen them. Ghost was next to the table as well, licking every bit of his face he could reach, wagging his tail with happiness.

“What… what happened?” Jon asked in a gruff voice, hoarse from disuse. “I… I'm confused…”

“You’re fine now,” Dany said, pulling slightly back, tears bathing her face. “That’s all that matters.”

“Here,” Sam said, coming on the other side of the table and handing him a horn of ale, looking younger and happier than Jon had ever seen him. “I’m sure you’re parched.”

Jon nodded and took the horn, draining it in quick gulps and soothing his dry throat. “I still… I was coming to see the Lord Commander…”

“Perhaps we should let Lord Starling breathe,” Maester Aemon said. “Let his lady wife and lord father catch him up in the events.”

Dany and Ned agreed and everybody else started to file out of the room with big smiles on their faces. Robb took the blanket he and Margaery had used and threw around his brother’s shoulders as Jon threw his legs off the table to sit up better.

“What…” Jon mumbled once the door closed, rubbing between Ghost’s ears. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit muddled.”

“What do you remember, son?” Ned asked.

“I remember…” Jon hung onto Dany’s hand. “We came back from beyond the Wall. You weren’t happy, you told Robb and I off. Dany…” he blushed. “You had a bath prepared for me.” She blushed as well, but didn’t say anything as Jon continued. “Then I went to talk to Sam: he figured out why the First Men and the Children of the Forest used dragonglass. We have a mountain of it in the mines, so I was coming to propose a deal to the Lord Commander. Then, I…” he frowned. “I heard… Thorne!” he exclaimed, widening his eyes. “He was here, with a few others! I walked in… they were going to kill the Lord Commander! Then he…” Jon took a hand to his naked chest and felt the indent of the scar there. “He k… how is this possible? I… I remember. He killed me. The sword went through my heart. I’m… how am I not…?”

“You did, Jon,” Ned said quietly. “But…”

“Lady Melisandre is a Red Priestess of Rh’llor, Jon,” Dany explained. “She performed a… well, a spell. The Lord of Light brought you back.”

Jon blinked. “Back? Back from the…?”

“Do you remember anything else? After Thorne?” Ned asked.

“No, I…” Jon forced his memory. There was only darkness, but a faint… perhaps he was muddling it with the time Tormund had knocked him out, but he had the faint memory of the northern lullaby. His _mother_ singing the northern lullaby. “No,” he declared. “There was nothing.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Dany said. “You’re back, you’re fine, that is what matters.”

“Of course,” Ned said with a smile. Then he lightly cuffed Jon’s ear. “That is for nearly giving your old father heart failure.”

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“Promise me to be extra careful and I shall forgive you.”

Jon chuckled. “I promise, Father.”

“Good. You know, Cregan doesn’t give me nearly as much trouble!”

“Cregan is still confined to his cradle,” Jon said with a laugh.

“Exactly!” Ned exclaimed. “It was so much easier when I was certain you and Robb were limited to be in the nursery with Ayla and Old Nan watching over you like hawks!” Jon laughed as Ned ruffled his hair. “You feeling alright, son?”

Jon absentmindedly rubbed his new scar. “I’m alive, Father. That is alright enough for me.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ayla was kneeling on the grass in front of the heart tree. Ella had managed to drag her away the day before, insisting she eat something, but as soon as Rickard had fallen asleep for the night, she had gone right back to the godswood and spent a second night praying to the gods. Her knees were aching and her legs were numb, and yet she didn’t leave her vigil.

She noticed the dawn breaking and sighed, realising she needed to get up and freshen up before she went to the nursery. She had a son and two foster grandchildren to tend to and they needed her presence and attention rather than merely the care of servants.

She heard the soft rustling of direwolf paws against grass and turned to find Nymeria coming closer. Then she gasped.

“Lyanna! What in heavens!”

“Goo’ mawning, Auntie!” the girl exclaimed from the she-wolf’s back.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I dream wish Papa! Mamma hugging Papa. But Papa sleep on table, Auntie! Why Papa sleep on table, Auntie?”

“You… wait just a moment, you had a dream with your Papa and Mamma?”

“Aye, Auntie. Nym think you be happy to know so we come tell you!” Lyanna said happily, a toothy grin on her innocent face. Nymeria lowered herself to the ground, her tail wagging wildly, and the girl slid down her back to stand on her own feet. “You pray, Auntie?”

Ayla exhaled deeply, a weight lifting from her shoulders. Nymeria, Lady, and Shaggydog had been in a sour, sad, terrible mood ever since the last round of howling, but now the she-wolf was chipper like when Arya arrived on the island. It had to be a good sign.

“So Nymeria thought you should tell me?”

“Aye, Auntie. She sad last night, but she happy mawning!”

“But how do you know, sweetie?”

“She tell me,” Lyanna shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing, and turned around to pick up at the bush of winter roses. “Auntie, Papa come home? I want Papa!”

“I’m sure your Papa is going to come back as fast as he can.”

“But Papa sick, Auntie. Papa come home!”

“Well, you saw him and Mamma, didn’t you, my love? They are coming back soon. I promise. Why don’t we gather more flowers?”

“Davs like fahwers too, Auntie. Davs come home too?”

“They are all coming back, sweetie.”

“Good!” Lyanna exclaimed, running around and gathering all the flowers she saw.

Chuckling, Ayla sat by the lake, her fingers already setting to work. When the garland was ready, she placed it on Lyanna’s head and the girl smiled again, her lilac eyes bluish with the flowers in her hair and the silk of her dress.

“You have no idea how much like your grandmother you are, my sweet little wolf.”

“No, Auntie. Papa ish wolf, Mamma ish dwagon. Me dwagonwolf!”

Ayla laughed, delighted. “You are, little love, you certainly are. If only your papa would say the same…”

But Lyanna was too busy running around again, petting a stray rabbit, and squealing at a songbird that chirped at her.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is the newest chapter! A bit late, but it was mommy's birthday, so I had a family day :D
> 
> As always, I hope you've enjoyed it and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts :D
> 
> Also, I've just posted the prologue to a new Modern AU fic I'm working on -- it'll be Rhaegar/Lyanna and Ned/Ashara and it won't be long, also not as often updated, but for those who enjoy these ships, I hope to hear your thoughts over there as well. You can find it under my works or in the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15800316/chapters/36771849


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jon reels from what happened to him, a few more facts about the past come to light.

Ned helped Jon to stand up, though he wasn’t very firm.

“How does it feel?” he asked.

“Like I’ve been trampled by a very big and very fat horse,” Jon replied drily, breathing heavily.

“Well, I suppose you will need to do some recovering even with the whole magical thing,” Ned said.

“Do you need someone to take you to bed?” Benjen asked, coming into the room with Robb and Addam once Dany had opened the door.

“No!” Jon exclaimed, horrified. “My legs are just fine!”

“It’s alright, brother, I’ll make sure you don’t fall on your rear.”

Jon huffed but ended up accepting Robb’s support as his legs were really wobbly and Ghost caught up on his other side. Addam and Leeds went ahead of them as Wex and two others held the rear guard. Once they came up to the room Jon and Dany were to share, Orys was already there with three others.

“Aren’t you going a little overboard?” Jon asked as Robb helped him to the bed.

“Certainly not,” Addam replied. “You better get used with guards breathing down your neck from now on, because you’re not going anywhere alone anymore.”

“Addam, this is—”

“I agree with him, Jon,” Dany said. “We are all going to have guards from now on, even the children. I’m not going through what I went through these past two days again.”

Jon acquiesced. For him, it had been like going to sleep and waking up, though the pain of the sword piercing his heart was going to haunt him for a while.

“How are you really feeling?” the knight asked.

“I’ll be fine.” Jon smiled a bit. “Now, I do have a thought: what happened to Thorne?”

“He was tried, confessed his guilt, and was executed,” Dany said, clenching her jaw.

Jon pursed his lips. “I wanted to do it myself. Wipe the little smirk off his face.”

“He was smirking?” Addam asked, his voice dangerously low.

“He isn’t anymore,” Jon said drily. “What about the others?”

“Those are waiting for your judgement,” Robb said.

“Good. Addam, make sure they know they swing in the morning.”

“It will be my pleasure.”

“That’s enough for now,” Dany cut in. “I haven’t had enough time with my lord husband ever since he left our home, moons ago. I would tell him of how our children fare now.” Addam and Robb nodded and left the room. Jon furrowed his face and groaned in pain, looking for a better position. “Are you in pain?”

“Uncomfortable, rather.” He shivered. “I can still feel the sword coming in, Dany,” he whispered. “It’s still… if I close my eyes I can see his smirking face as he pushes the sword in my chest.” She bit her lip, but failed to hold in a tear. “I'm sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

“No, I… I get it,” she said. And she did. Jon was always someone who kept his emotions hidden, his fears and weaknesses under wraps. Except from her. Growing up as outsiders in Winterfell, they always had each other to rely on, and she loved that she could see into him, that he would allow her into his insecurities. “Did… was it too painful?”

“It felt like… It hurt like hells, but then… it felt like my blood was boiling and freezing all at once. I felt Ghost’s presence, then it was… it was like I could feel… I don’t remember. I’m probably mixing things up.”

“Mixing what up?” Dany asked.

“Beyond the Wall, before the wildlings knew they could trust us, they attacked us. They didn’t harm us,” Jon added hastily seeing her face, “they only wanted to see if we were a threat. But I was knocked unconscious and I… I dreamt with my mother. She called me son and she was singing a northern lullaby. I thought… I don’t know if I'm recalling that or if she came into my dreams again.”

“I dreamt with your aunt,” Dany said with a small smile.

“My aunt?”

“Lyanna Stark. She was all dressed up like a knight, she went up on Winter and said she was going to battle for you, keep you safe until Melisandre could do the spell. Maybe your mother was keeping company while Lady Lyanna kept guard. Everything for the pack, always.”

Jon smiled. “I wish I could have met her. Father says Arya is just like her, so I'm sure she was great. And Addam let’s slip things sometimes, too. Oh, in one of his arguments on the whole idiocy of our trip beyond the Wall—”

“Well, it was idiotic,” Dany cut in. “You had to have thought there were betters ways to achieve your goal than what—”

“I know, I know, we were impulsive. But here’s the interesting part.”

“What? Addam said something about… about the Rebellion?”

“In the middle of scolding me, he told me how… he was the one who had to tell Aunt Lyanna about the Battle of the Trident. That he had never seen ‘a woman who was so strong crumble like that’ and how he wouldn’t be able to… to watch the same happen to you.”

Dany pursed her lips for a moment. “Maybe that was why… he was the one who came to get me. He said… he wouldn’t tell me what happened, only that he would bring me to you.”

“What he said… for me it’s the final proof that the Rebellion was a lie, Dany. Addam is the last man who would follow an order to be gaoler to a kidnapped and raped woman. He would take the order as an insult to his honour and therefore it would free him from his oath. But he stayed with my aunt, even when your brother was gone to the Trident; he won’t hide how much he loved your brother — he said so, he said he loved Rhaegar like a brother; and he all but said that she loved him and was devastated to hear of his death.”

“Your father, Uncle Benjen, Addam, and everyone in Winterfell always compare Lady Lyanna to Arya. From what we know of her, I find it hard to believe that she would love Robert Baratheon or accept what Cersei has to endure,” Dany said. She wanted to believe that more than anything. And she did, actually. She had long stopped blaming Rhaegar for the ruin of their family, ever since Lord Stark had assured her his sister hadn’t been taken, since she understood just what that feeling inside her heart for the man she grew to marry was.

“If she really was anything like Arya, she would kick him where it hurts rather than let him shame her,” Jon said with a chuckle. “But enough about her. You were talking about giving _our_ Lyanna a dragon egg?”

Dany smiled and happily cuddled in his arms as she begun to speak about their children and their gifts.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Sam walked in the room after Gilly had allowed his entrance and found her sitting in an old chair by the window, rocking her son.

“Hello. I just wanted to tell you that Jon is awake.”

“Oh! Good, good,” she said. “Is he well?”

“He is, he is, recognised all of us and remembers what happened. But you said you wanted to ask me something. Before all this happened.”

Gilly blushed and stood up, placing the baby in a basket.

“I just… I know you have duties. And I owe you my life and my son’s. But the Free Folk… they don’t like us. They think Craster was an abomination and they hate him for what he did with his daughters and sons. I’m… I’m afraid of what they’ll do. These five here are quiet, but once there are more of them… what if…”

“I will talk with Jon and Dany,” Sam said. “If they no longer have need of me… I can ask to return south first. But even if we can’t, Gilly, you know I will not let them do anything, don’t you?”

“I know. But I… I’m afraid anyway.”

Sam nodded. He had lived afraid of his father long enough, he knew it took a while to really understand that there was no need to be afraid anymore. And the fear was never really gone. Even after Lord Stark had given him the papers saying he was no longer heir to Horn Hill, after Jon had named him his secretary, after he had been given his own title and castles, he still had nightmares with the night of his eight-and-tenth name day when Randyll Tarly had threatened to take the life of his firstborn.

“I will talk to Jon tomorrow morning, I promise,” Sam said.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Addam knocked on Ned’s door just before supper — he had asked Jory to inform him when the Lord Hand could receive him: after two nights and a day of vigil, it was no surprise the man had slept the morning and afternoon away.

“Letter from my sister,” Addam said, passing the parchment over.

 

_Big brother,_

_I write to ensure everyone is well. The direwolves are restless, what worried me: earlier they howled in what seemed welcome but just now the whole island could hear the grief in their howling. The volcano started to release some lava again, and taken into consideration what was happening the last time something similar occurred and Ayla’s mother senses, I am very worried. Please, send me a message as soon as possible._

_Other than that, all is fine here. Cregan is enjoying the company of his cousin and nephew and the boys are having several nursery adventures. And Lyanna takes very much after her name sake._

_Love,_

_Lady Ella of House Stark, Lady of Winterfell_

 

“The wolves communicated all across the North?” Ned asked with a frown.

“Direwolves are your business, Stark,” Addam said. “But apparently yes, they did. And Ella is not stupid, she knows it’s about Jon: the volcano erupted and Ayla had a bad feeling. What do I tell her? They are going to be anxious if they read it in a message.”

“Tell her something did happen but that Jon is fine now. Better to explain in person, when both she and Ayla are seeing him alive and well in front of them. And tell her we should be done here soon. I intend to leave as soon as we have a deal with Mance Rayder, and I would like her to meet me in Winterfell with the children.”

The knight nodded. “And when are you telling Jon the truth?” he asked.

“I ah…” Ned hesitated. “I’m not sure this is the right moment.”

“What?!”

“He died, Addam. He—”

“He needs to understand there’s more at stake now!” the Dornishman exclaimed. “He knows the Others are coming, now he needs to understand his role in it.”

“If the focus is the war to the north…”

“Say the truth, Stark: you’re afraid. You’re afraid of how he’ll look at you once he knows the truth.”

“That is not the point,” Ned said though he couldn’t deny it was part of the truth. “The point is that it’s too dangerous…”

“Jon is not a five-year-old boy anymore!” Addam exclaimed. “I don’t judge you for keeping it from him then, because it was a secret too big for a child to handle, but he is a grown man, married, with two children, and lord of his own castle! He can’t be kept from the truth forever!”

“Lyanna would—”

“Don’t put this on your sister! She would be the first to say—”

“But she wasn’t!” Ned finally lost the control on his tone of voice. “Daenerys dreamt with her and she sent me a message making clear she recognised my role in Jon’s life and still she didn’t say anything. All she needed do was say one little sentence to Daenerys and the secret would be out! You know about Targaryens and dragon dreams, you know it was truly a vision. But Lyanna kept quiet. And that, to me, is proof she understands this is not the moment.”

Addam was too furious to continue the argument, especially because he could see that Ned wouldn’t be dissuaded.

“Say what you will, Lord Stark, but the truth will come out eventually. And if you're not the one to tell him, that is why Jon won't forgive you.”

“I’m not saying I won't tell him!”

“No, you’re just putting it off. Again. He held an open flame with his bare hand and barely got a blister; the witch brought him back with ice and fire; you heard Benjen, they have more dragon eggs — what are you going to do if Jon bonds with one of them? If you tell him because you were forced to, he will think you never intended to say the truth and he _will_ hate you for it. Make no mistake.”

Like that, the knight left the room slamming the door behind himself. Ned punched a vase on the table, turning to open the window and willing the cold air from outside to cool his anger.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tyrion watched as the children left his chambers. The volcano had stopped oozing lava at daybreak — or so the children claimed, as the lord had been enjoying the luxury of the four-poster bed in his guest chambers — and not long after ‘little Lady Lyanna’ was seen sneaking out of her nursery (a common enough occurrence, especially in her parents’ absence) and the direwolf Nymeria had helped her down the stairs and into the godswood.

The dwarf was rejoicing in the pitiful web of spies his sister had attempted to build in the Blessed Island. She had obviously gotten the idea from Varys’ little birds, but the Spider made sure to put in the effort to teach his children to read and pass on messages. Cersei had hired a dunce to manage the information relayed by the children, a big wall of muscle who could barely string two words together. After Tyrion had really set his mind to rooting out spies and found the children, Bronn had put out the thug in one moment, leaving the exiled lion as the children’s master. Tyrion was having a lot of fun.

First, because he was faking reports to Casterly Rock (it was a threat to mimic the dunce’s language, but so far it seemed to be working — not that Cersei was a master in this area); second, because his sweet, stupid sister sometimes sent enough information through the questions she made that it allowed him to conjecture; third because he was screwing Cersei over, and after the way she had all but exiled him from Casterly Rock, castle to which he was the rightful heir since Jaime had given it up, this gave Tyrion immense pleasure.

“Will you ever explain to me just why we’re still here?” Bronn asked.

“Well, a very simple reason,” Tyrion said, refilling his goblet. “I have nowhere else to go. Certainly nowhere with such accommodations. Plus, the wine is superb and the food is too exotic to be found anywhere else this side of the Narrow Sea. Also, Lady Starling is paying me quite handsomely for my expertise in infrastructure.”

“Well, **_I_** am not being paid handsomely,” the sellsword complained.

“Yes, you are. You’ve got enough dragons every moon and the brothel sends me high bills. And you also have a room and hot food and the chance to pummel idiots at the harbour. I dare say you're in a very comfortable situation.”

Bronn shrugged. “Well, beats sleeping in the woods. At least for now.”

Tyrion chuckled but didn’t give his complaints much thought. Taking over Cersei’s scheme had been one good step in the direction of revenge, but he needed more. He needed to get his own spies inside Casterly Rock and also in the Red Keep. Though the latter might be more complicated. But he needed to have something to fire back at Cersei.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dany took the tray of food back to the table, watching as Jon only burrowed deeper into the bed. It seemed the whole ordeal had taken a lot out of him, because it was barely after sunset and he was already fast asleep.

“Come,” she said in a low voice at the knock on the door.

“Hello.” Addam came in. “Just wanted to check on how he is.”

“He seems only tired,” she said. “We spent the whole day talking, he is just the same, Addam. Perhaps a bit more subdued.”

“Coming back or not, I’m sure dying has to have an impact on you. My lady, if I—”

“Addam…” she called out with a raised brow, making him chuckle. “We’ve talked about this. You are family.”

“Right. I’m sorry. Dany, I wonder if I…”

“Yes, you may ask whatever it is you’re afraid of asking.”

“You are just like your brother,” Addam said, snorting. “You two would have gotten along terrifically!”

Dany smiled, then bit her lip, turning to watch her sleeping husband. “I wish I would have met him. But then… how terrible is it of me to not completely regret the Rebellion?” she asked and it was his turn to frown. “I love my life, Addam. I love my husband and my children and even imagining a life without them hurts. Even if the alternative is a loving mother and brothers and a whole family to call mine. If things were different… I wouldn’t even have met Jon!”

“I have lived through and seen enough that if there is one thing I know for certain, is that some things are just meant to be. You and Jon were always meant to be. Besides, Rhaegar was forced into an arranged marriage, one that began to turn sour moons, perhaps even years before Harrenhall. And after that day… he wouldn’t have forced anyone into an unwanted betrothal.”

“You mean after he met Lady Lyanna?”

Addam stopped and clenched his jaw, his anger at Ned Stark and their recent argument coming back.

“I heard that you had an interesting dream?” he said.

“I did,” Dany understood his question with a smile. “And she asked me to tell you to stop being so hard on yourself. You have failed no one.”

Addam snorted, smiling weakly. He missed Lyanna, he missed her spirit and the simple way she saw the world. She would have revolutionised King’s Landing, making Court hate her and hate they couldn’t be like her. She wouldn’t have stood for backstabbing. He could almost imagine now, the fights she would have with Varys about his methods. Lyanna might have been the Ice to Rhaegar’s Fire in some old and dusty prophecy, but Addam knew she was the sunlight to chase away the melancholic darkness of the Prince’s cold compliance.

“She was one of the kindest people I ever met,” the knight said quietly. “She was so... pure. She was true to herself and she was fierce about protecting her family. You know how Starks are, protecting their pack above all else. When she heard about the Trident... I thought she’d figure out a way to magically appear there and finish the job Rhaegar started on Robert Baratheon.”

“You mean Robert was injured? But I thought...”

“Of course the Usurper would camouflage it, but yes. He was badly injured, according to what I heard. That’s why Ned Stark was the one who led the forces south to King’s Landing to secure the capital. Robert followed only after a week and he had to ride in a carriage.”

“So the Rebellion was a lie?” Dany asked.

“The Rebellion was a delusion, Dany,” Addam replied. “A delusion dressed as salvation and masqueraded as victory. And Westeros is still suffering because of it.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Littlefinger looked out his window, seeing the city go about its business, but gazing at the Sept of Baelor far in the distance. His Cat was still inside, out of his reach, like she always had been. He remembered arriving in Riverrun as a silly boy with nothing to his name. Lord Tully had been kind and hospitable to the son of his wartime friend and little Petyr had wanted for nothing, being given good chambers and good meals, the company of the lord’s children. Edmure had been much too young to join them, and Lysa had been inconveniently in the way even then. But Cat… oh, Catelyn Tully, the perfect lady even as a young girl. By the time Petyr began fostering with the Tullys, their mother’s death had happened long enough before that the eldest daughter had taken over the keep, ruling it with the grace and care of a true lady. It wasn’t hard for Petyr to fall in love with this wondrous girl, a lady from birth, poised and elegant. But not long after, his heart was broken: Lord Tully organised his daughter, his firstborn’s betrothal. Not to a little lording from the Vale with nothing to his name other than a decrepit castle, but to the heir to the North.

Catelyn, ever the gracious lady, had thanked her lord father for this gift, for working so hard to make her the future ruler of such an important household, of a Great House. To imagine, Lady of Winterfell! But once supper was over and they retired to the children’s chambers, Catelyn let her fears show. She had been scared, of course she had, of having to go North and rule over those barbarian tree worshipers. She had been afraid of the prospect of her betrothed, a man she knew nothing about but his name. Brandon Stark, how Petyr had cursed his name! Catelyn had worried Brandon would be cruel, that he would force her to forsake her gods, the true gods, to worship those trees of his. Her septa had soothed her, told her to pray to the Seven forever more, to beg their guidance and guarding for the trial that waited her. After all, the gods wouldn’t forsake such a pious daughter.

Looking back now, still glaring at the splendorous building on top of Visenya’s Hill, Littlefinger wondered if that had been for the worst. If the septa’s strong presence, caused by the lack of a lady to care for the children, hadn’t risen in Catelyn the feeling of too much dependency on the Faith.

But that was unimportant. Because once letters begun to be exchanged, little Lady Catelyn had fallen deeply in love with her uncouth betrothed. There was always a smile, an appreciative comment, truly a fawning. No longer did Catelyn worry about the dreary North, about the grey cold castle in the middle of the grey nowhere, far from anywhere colourfully important. Because Brandon Stark had been charming in his letters, he had seduced Catelyn with honeyed words, and made her believe he was the best man that ever lived and that he loved her deeply. She fell for his lies, forgetting who truly loved her in favour of someone she had never met. The betrayal had burnt, of course it had, but Petyr could understand it. Catelyn was a proper lady, she needed to follow her lord father’s commands. Why would she fight it and be miserable when she could allow herself to find solace in the idea of her betrothed’s kindness?

It had been close to the wedding, once the Starks arrived in Riverrun for the occasion, rather, that Petyr gathered the courage to fight for his beloved. To save her from the unhappiness that awaited her in the land of summer snows. He had challenged Brandon Stark for Catelyn’s love and the Northerner had laughed. Barbarian that he was, he had promised his crying betrothed that he would not harm her defender, but still had nearly gutted Petyr.

And the boy had failed to free his love from her torment. Catelyn was still doomed to go North and Lysa, stupid, foolish Lysa, had nearly ruined everything. After the beautiful night Petyr had shared with Catelyn, still heavily under the effects of milk of the poppy, the little sister stole into his bed and took advantage of his confusion. Petyr had only noticed it was her and not his beloved in the morning and by then the damage had been done. Catelyn was already lost, and now Petyr was stuck with lovesick Lysa.

But he had been lucky in only little detail: due to lost letters, the Lord of Winterfell had never been notified his daughter hadn’t arrived in Riverrun as he had imagined. Rickard Stark was certain his Lyanna had made a safe voyage from Winterfell, to be company to her soon to be good-sister for three moons before the wedding, but the wild she-wolf had disappeared on the way. Later, they had discovered she had been “abducted” by the Dragon Prince, but then… oh, Petyr still remembered perfectly the confusion that had erupted once the Stark host arrived in the castle, accusations and yelling, the dumb northerners searching for their lost pup.

Hoster Tully, never one to miss an opportunity, had promised to give his men for the search efforts. But only after the wedding took place. Cursing the Riverlord’s ambition and despair to marry off his daughter — who was getting past the age for marriage after all — Rickard Stark accepted and Petyr thought it was all lost after all.

The day of the ceremony dawned like a nightmare for the boy from the Vale. Until, sneaking around as he liked, he discovered the raven from the she-wolf. That blessed raven! He forged a slightly different message and then used Lysa’s blind devotion to his ends for the first time, telling her to bait Brandon Stark into going after his sister. He knew how much Lysa hated Catelyn, how she envied her big sister, so it was easy enlist her help. And Brandon Stark, hot-headed fool that he was, saddled his horse and left for the capital faster than word could get to his father, who cursed and sent search parties, but by then the man was gone.

Obviously, Petyr hadn’t even imagined how that little lie would develop. He couldn’t have counted on Brandon’s stupidity in storming into the Red Keep as he did nor how the Mad King would react. Brandon Stark kick-started the Rebellion, all based on a little lie concocted by a boy from the Vale, with nothing to his name. After that, forging a letter from him to Robert Baratheon had been easy. Lysa nearly ruined everything, tough, when she announced to her father that she carried Petyr’s child and demanded to marry him.

But Hoster Tully would never waste his daughter on a nobody, not when war had broken out and he could sell her off to a higher buyer. Petyr wouldn’t say it wasn’t a relief to be spared the need to marry Lysa and even though somewhere deep down he felt the loss of the child, he needed to be practical. Marrying her would have achieved him nothing. He would have returned to the Vale buried in shame and scandal for having seduced his host’s daughter, back to his castle falling apart in the middle of nowhere, with an expensive wife and their future children. But then Hoster had his guards hold Lysa down as he shoved the moon tea down her throat and two days later Lysa was marrying Jon Arryn, cursing every last hair on her father’s head.

Catelyn had been lost, too, making Petyr’s plans moot after all. The faked raven had delayed the marriage to the North and given him revenge on Brandon Stark. It had even worked as far as leading to the Targaryen fall, something Petyr could never have dreamt of. But then Lysa had been useful again, sweet-talking her husband into giving her friend Petyr a position in Court. Hoster Tully had been furious, but he had killed any whispers on the indecent relationship between them and to try and push Petyr away now would raise suspicions he didn’t need raised. Besides, Lysa was married so whatever happened would be just a child passed as another man’s.

So for years and years Petyr had worked his way to the top in King's Landing. He had made the right friends, risen to Master of Coin, grown his riches beyond his wildest dreams, and achieved a position that put him in just the right place to do it all over again. Because once more the gods conspired in his favour, putting all the players in favourable places. Lysa complained and complained and when Jon Arryn had been dumb enough to accept having his son fostered at Casterly Rock, regardless of investigating Cersei’s little secret, Lysa had been desperate enough to do what Petyr suggested. Oh, how quickly she had accepted the plan, how remorseless she had been to poison her own lord husband.

But the bait hadn’t worked completely. There had been a hiccup in the second part of the plan: Catelyn had fallen in disgrace. Without Catelyn to manipulate her mentally-challenged former husband, without her to urge Ned Stark into trusting Littlefinger, then the Starks were beyond his manipulation. It would have been so easy! Ned would have fallen for the same trap as Brandon and confronted the Lannisters. Then Cersei would have had him and Robert killed, then the North would rise and war would happen. And amidst the chaos, Littlefinger would rise.

But that dream had been killed the day Catelyn was caught mistreating the bastard. Cursed boy! Petyr had sent one of his spies to kill the boy in his crib when he was still a toddler, but his nurse had caught it and disposed of the poison. Another chance was lost when the boy was only a child, and then Petyr gave up on it. Had he known how troublesome Jon Starling would have grown to be… because Westeros was on the brink of war again, and people were divided between Robert and a possible restoration with Daenerys Targaryen. If he had succeeded in killing the bastard, the girl would have been sent to the sept and forgotten, instead of being a threat now.

But it was useless to cry over it. He needed a new plan. Pitting Starks and Lannisters against each other was still the best call, Petyr only needed to be more aggressive about it. And then a small smile spread across his face as an idea came to him. Oh, but he needed to send word to his people in Winterfell immediately!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Capital, Varys receives news from far away while, at the Wall, Jon and Dany must deal with the aftermath of what happened and Maester Aemon makes an intriguing discovery.

Varys sneaked down the maze-like secret passages of the Red Keep to the lower levels, where no one went anymore. At the time of Aerys Targaryen, the servants took much more to the hidden passages, but ever since Robert became king and took the dragon skulls to the bowels of the castle, taking to visiting it sometimes, people always avoided the quicker way in favour of the outside peace and lack of whoring. Illyrio was already waiting for him near Balerion’s skull, the little bird that had led him there vanished in search of more sweets.

“My old friend!” the Spider greeted. “Welcome to our capital! What news do you bring me from across the water?”

“Dear Varys!” the Magister greeted as well. “I came personally this time. I thought it was best.”

“What leads me to believe it is big and serious news. Tell me, my friend.”

“Viserys is leaving Volantis. Well, he’s certainly gone by now.”

“Why?”

“He got in a fight with one of the Golden Company’s captains about his importance.” Illyrio rolled his eyes in annoyance. “In his mind he is King Viserys III and he is owed respect. He cares not that he relies on the kindness of strangers because he actually has nothing. My spies tell me he is moving further east, perhaps to Qarth. But the fact is, my friend, Viserys is nothing, he is less than a shadow. If he was going to be no threat before, now he is not even a thought. Shouldn’t you move to remove Robert Baratheon?”

“Perhaps it is indeed the time for a more aggressive approach. But not right now. The Hand is gone to the North, so we cannot move to take the capital, not for the moment. But the lions are plotting to kill the Usurper and steal the throne, so I believe it might be time to let them succeed. Once Lord Stark is back, he can hold the city until the King comes to claim his throne with his Queen.”

“Varys, the Crown is deeply in debt. Trade is getting difficult and if taxes raise again… if more merchants start complaining about bad business with an impoverished Westeros, then the Iron Bank will move to settle the problem.”

“I know that, my friend. But worry not, I shall have that handled soon. As soon as Ned Stark returns to the capital I will make a move. You have my word.”

Illyrio nodded and they soon parted ways. But the magister wasn’t very convinced with Varys’ reassurances. ‘As soon as Ned Stark returns’, but why had he left in the first place? Why had he left his post open when the Lannisters plotted against the Usurper? Perhaps it would be a good idea to follow his merchant ship north to the Blessed Island, ingratiate himself to Daenerys Targaryen once more. Because regardless of Varys’ plan for this hidden king of his, Illyrio Mopatis had his own plans. One day, he would need Daenerys Targaryen, he would need her name and her bloodline even if her husband was an inconsequential inconvenience. So yes, he needed to move his own plans along.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

On the next morning, Jon felt nearly normal when he woke up. His chest still hurt if he took too deep a breath, but on the general he was feeling well again, so he insisted in going down to break his fast with the others. Dany had tried to convince him to stay in their room and have a tray, but Jon was adamant.

“It is not about you going down to eat alone, Dany…” he said.

“I am not going to eat alone, Jon. Not again. I can't… last time I did that…”

He cupped her cheeks as she tried to look away and hide her blush. “Dany, what happened wasn’t your fault. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do.” She looked at him still uncomfortable. “And I know that you might have wanted to go talk to Sam even if I had stayed, and if I had gone with you I might have stayed with Gilly and not continued with you to the Lord Commander’s solar, but I can’t… the last thing I said to you was that ‘luck always runs out’. That was all I could think of. That you were… you were dead, Jon! Your heart was silent under my ear, your hand was cold between mine, and your lungs didn’t draw breath. And all I could think of was that the last thing I had ever said to you was that you were reckless and impulsive and that luck runs out!”

Jon drew her into his arms, shushing her. “Stop this, Dany. What happened was… alright, I can’t even imagine what it felt like for you. But you can't let that keep on pulling you down. I’m back. We’re together again.”

“But what did I do? I sat there, crying, doing nothing!” Dany cried, her tears running down her face as she finally opened up.

“There was nothing you could do, love.”

“Addam was the one who asked Melisandre for help. He was the one that—”

“He asked her because he’s travelled a lot, he knew it was possible. Stop this, Dany. If you want to go down this path, you should remember that the only reason Melisandre was here to help me, to help _us_ , is because _you_ received her as a guest into our home and _you_ brought her to the Wall. Addam might have been the one who asked Melisandre for her magic, but you are the one who brought her to me. I'm only alive because of you, Dany.”

She took in a trembling, teary breath as she accepted his logic, laying her head on his shoulder as they hugged once more. The calmness after the storm.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The brothers of the Watch stepped back for Jon and Dany to pass, all looking at him with awe and even some degree of suspicion and fear. Since she had been so distressed, they had agreed to skip breakfast and only go down for supper.

“I feel like an exotic animal from overseas,” Jon whispered to his wife. It was making him uncomfortable, in the midst of his overwhelmed mind.

“Well, they all saw Thorne’s execution for your murder and heard about Melisandre’s spell. Of course they are curious.”

Jon sighed and they continued on to the dining hall, joining the table where Garlan was making everyone laugh with a story about a knight and squire from the Summer Islands. He joined in and, at least, his family was trying to make it seem like any other regular supper rather than fixate on the impossible magic that had happened, which made Jon feel less unnerved. Though there was an odd feeling unsettling the top of his stomach that he couldn’t shake off. He wanted to… he didn’t know how to deal with this, but he had seen his wife’s distress, so he didn’t feel like opening up to her.

Something that was glaringly obvious, though, was the tension between his father and Addam. The two weren’t even masquerading their anger at each other, looking away and pointedly refusing to speak to each other. Jon, Dany, and Robb actually chuckled when Benjen rolled his eyes and muttered that the two of them should grow up.

But Jon was too preoccupied, lost in his own thoughts, to wonder too hard what was the latest disagreement between the two men. After they had eaten, he insisted on going for a walk. Dany had hated the idea, but relented once Addam and Davos declared they were going with him and Margaery had distracted her.

“The point of going alone is to—” Jon started.

“Call me impertinent if you will, but if you want to be alone, my lord, I suggest you get used to your private chambers,” Addam cut in, and his tone showed his bad mood.

Jon only rolled his eyes, knowing the knight was right. Ghost stayed nearly glued to his side, as he had been since Jon first woke up, and he couldn’t help but feel safer. Company, at least, wasn’t lacking. They walked around the catwalk, stopping above the gate facing south.

“Why?” Jon asked after a while of staring off into the darkness.

The guards had stayed a bit back, forming a line of protection to each side, so they were out of earshot. Addam and Davos exchanged a look, unsure what to say, but the older man stepped up next to the brooding lord.

“I am only a smuggler, made a knight because I was mad enough and able to bring food to a starving castle. I don’t claim to be learned, but I think I’ve lived through enough to know some things. Other things, however, have no answer known to man.”

“But why me?” Jon asked and for the first time there was anguish audible in his voice. “How many people die every day? How many people were betrayed, murdered by the madness or jealousy of other men?”

_Well, your father for one_ , Addam thought. “You won’t find the answer to this riddle, Jon,” he said, “I don’t think we are meant to understand it.”

“You were dead,” Davos said. “And now you’re not. That’s completely fucking mad, seems to me. I can only imagine how it seems to you. But you are back.”

“But I… I tried to defend an innocent man and I got murdered for it. And now I’m back. Why? Why me?”

“I don’t know,” Davos said, shrugging. “Maybe we’ll never know. What does it matter? You go on. You fight for as long as you can. You go home to your children with your beautiful wife and show them how much you love them.”

“I don’t know how to do that. I let my family down. I failed.”

“Good. Now go fail again,” Davos said with a smile.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Orell announced at breakfast the next morning that Mance Rayder and a small party would arrive just before sundown, to the displeasure of most brothers of the Watch. But Lord Commander Mormont was back on his seat at the table and quashed the moans with energetic pulse. After the executions the day before and the heads stuck on pikes at the gates, the bodies roasting on the pyre, the malcontents were very subdued.

Leaving Dany distracted with helping Gilly pack for her and Sam’s voyage back home, Jon went down to the library.

“Lady Melisandre,” he greeted. “I didn’t have the chance to thank you, my lady. I owe you my life.”

“It was the Lord’s doing, Lord Starling,” the woman replied. “I am merely his instrument.”

“Lady Starling tells me you have visions, my lady,” Jon started, unsure. “Visions in the flames. And those visions are what led you to us.”

“My Lord communicates with me by showing me his will in the fire, my lord. I interpreted his visions and made my way to the Blessed Island. The Lord wants you alive, and so he made sure one of his followers would be here to ensure his will.”

“But why? Why would a god have any interest to keep a bastard made lord alive?” Jon asked, not noticing as Addam rolled his eyes at his back.

“The Lord doesn’t tell me his reasons, Lord Starling.” Then she stopped and considered him. Melisandre had spent a great deal of time considering what had happened during the spell and she couldn’t help but wonder… “There is a prophecy,” she said, but then frowned: Addam stiffened and seemed uncomfortable. ‘ _Another mystery_ ,’ the Priestess thought.

“I don’t know if—” Jon started but she cut him off.

“It speaks of a Prince, born amidst salt and smoke, promised to defeat darkness and bring by an Eternal Summer.”

“And?”

“You were reborn amidst the salt of your wife tears and the smoke of the Lord’s fire, my lord,” Melisandre said. “The Lord of Light brought you back because you were heralded millennia ago. You found out how to vanquish the White Walkers, because it is you who has the power to triumph over them and end their cold darkness once and for all.”

Jon stood still, taking in what she was saying, each word making him uncomfortable. He noticed Maester Aemon had joined them, but his mind was overwhelmed again.

“There is a small problem with your logic, my lady,” he said. “I am no prince.”

And with that Jon turned away and left the library.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Maester Aemon had read the prophecy of the Prince Who Was Promised countless times. He knew the Wood’s Witch had told his brother that the Prince would come from the line of Aerys and Rhaella — Egg had sent him the letter the next day it had happened, stating he had decreed their marriage, much to their mutual dislike. But it was their duty to the realm. He remembered Rhaegar’s first letter: sweet, kind Rhaegar, saying he had found the prophecy in an old scroll and asking a long-lost uncle for guidance.

For some time, they had believed the Prince of Dragonstone was himself the Promised Prince of prophecy, especially given how his birth had taken place, but then some pieces didn’t fit and they reached the conclusion that Rhaegar wasn’t the Promise, but his line would be. When Maester Aemon had heard about what happened during the Rebellion, he had cursed prophecy and the human folly. If Rhaegar didn’t believe so much in the prophecy, would he have forgotten his duty to realm and run away with Lyanna Stark? The Prince had written of his love for her, but perhaps if he hadn’t been so consumed with the idea that she was the Ice to his Fire, then he would have taken the time to do things calmly and the Rebellion wouldn’t have taken place.

Maester Aemon had then discounted, ignored the prophecy. Rhaegar’s line was extinct, House Targaryen was over. But then he heard about Daenerys. At first, he had been only glad of her survival, but then he made the realisation: the word in High Valyrian was gender neutral. When translated into the Common Tongue, dārilaros meant either ‘prince’ or ‘princess’. It was a misinterpretation, born from the mistranslation. And so the prophecy was alive again, not in the figure of a Prince, but a Princess. A Princess born during the worst storm in recorded history, amidst the salt of the turbulent sea and the smoke of the volcano of Dragonstone.

But weeks ago Addam had shared a little secret that had changed Aemon’s thoughts again: Rhaegar had left a son, a son born of his marriage to Lyanna Stark. A son born of Ice and Fire. The maester had once again started to think of a Prince rather than a Princess. But now… now Jon’s words brought another thought, making Maester Aemon change his mind again.

“Addam,” he called before the knight could run after his lord. “Would you be so kind as to help me feed the ravens?”

If the man thought it strange, he didn’t voice it. He merely sent the guards after Jon and followed Maester Aemon up the rickety stairs, understanding the seriousness when Ghost followed them instead of his companion.

“I was too far away for the finer details to reach me, Ser,” the Maester said once they were out of earshot. “Please, do tell me the timeline of the Rebellion.”

“It all started in Harrenhall,” Addam said, complying even though he had no idea of what prompted the question. “Prince Rhaegar’s marriage to Princess Elia was not going well: he took too much stock in the prophecy, in the idea that the dragon must have three heads, and the Princess could not give him a third child. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but he insisted he was to have a third child and, as the match had been political, they cared for each other, but there was no great love. Elia considered the dissolution, so long as her children would remain first in line for succession, and then there was the Great Tourney. Rhaegar fell in love with Lyanna from the moment she took off her helmet, showing she had dressed as a knight to fight for the honour of a friend. When she said her name… the moment she said ‘Lady Lyanna, if you insist, of House Stark’, he was convinced she was the one, his Ice.”

“After we returned to Dragonstone,” he continued, “Rhaegar and Elia got in talks to end their marriage. Prince Aegon would remain Rhaegar’s heir, and Elia would raise him and Princess Rhaenys in Dorne until Aegon was old enough to come and take his place next to his father. Rhaegar then sent a message to Lyanna, but her father was sending her to Riverrun, because she was refusing her marriage to Robert Baratheon. Rickard Stark thought having his daughter in a southern household would get her to warm up to the idea of her betrothed. He was wrong, of course, he apparently had no idea of who his daughter was. She said she would ditch her guards and run away to Essos. But Rhaegar got a boat and sent a message back, telling her he was coming to get her. Lyanna ditched her guards — gods know how — and we met her in the Westerlands. Then we sailed south and made our way to the Tower of Joy. The High Septon came, annulled Elia and Rhaegar’s union and married him to Lyanna. Then the tragedy with Rickard and Brandon Stark happened and the Rebellion started. Rhaegar was trying to articulate his father’s downfall and by the time he finally returned to the capital, he left me, Ser Oswell, and Ser Gerold to guard the Princess, who was already aware she was carrying their child.”

“But when…” the Maester took a deep breath. “Who died first, Aerys or Rhaegar?”

“Rhaegar,” the knight replied with a pang of pain in his heart. “The Usurper killed Rhaegar at the Trident while the Lannisters marched for the capital. King Aerys sent Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys to Dragonstone as Ned Stark led the rebel forces to King’s Landing, arriving just after the Sack took place. He secured the capital for his friend and then left to find his sister. He got there just as the Princess gave birth.”

“By which time both Rhaegar and Aerys were dead?” Maester Aemon asked.

“Yes. The capital was taken already.”

“Then he was born not a prince, but already the rightful King.”

“Yes, Maester. Why are you asking this?” Addam wondered. “What difference does it make? Regardless of when Rhaegar’s death happened, the line goes down through him, Jon is undisputedly the heir.”

“Oh, yes, yes, you’re right. It’s only an old man’s curiosity about his family…”

“Is this about what the Priestess just said?”

The Maester smiled. “She is wrong. Jon was right, he is no Prince. He has never been a prince. He cannot be the Prince Who Was Promised. The language won’t allow for it.” Then he chuckled. “Thank you, Addam, that was the question I had.”

Completely befuddled, Addam only led the Maester down to his library, understanding he had been dismissed and would have no question answered. Aemon settled on his chair, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

Melisandre couldn’t have made the same leap, since she lacked an important piece of information. It seemed Rhaegar had been right, all those years ago. He was the Prince Who Was Promised, Azor Ahai reborn. But prophecy was a misleading mistress. When it spoke of the Prince forging his weapon, Lightbringer, in the blood of Nissa Nissa, it was interpreted as a smith forging a sword tempered in the blood of his wife. But reality had been permeated by symbolism. Rhaegar, the Promised _Prince_ , had indeed forged Lightbringer: not a sword, but his son and heir, born bathed with the blood of his wife, his love. By giving birth to Jon, Lyanna had perished in a bed of blood, making the prophecy true in a way no one had ever expected or seen coming.

_But the dragon has three heads_ , the old maester thought. _If Jon is Lightbringer, if he is one of the heads, where are the others? Because Daenerys may be the second, but Rhaegar is dead. The children are too small, and at any rate the math doesn’t add up. Who, then, is the third head of the dragon?_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Daenerys was playing with the baby as Gilly and Irri moved about the room, gathering things. Sam was getting the horses and guards ready so they could make the best of daylight even though, on this side of the Wall, they needn’t worry too much about what attacked after dark.

“Have you chosen a name yet?” the lady asked.

“A name?”

“Yes, for this little one? I imagine you were worried about other things, but I thought to ask.” Dany smiled as the boy giggled.

“Oh.” Gilly gasped. “It’s just… wildlings don’t name their babies until their second name day, milady. The cold… life is harsh and babes die all the time.”

“Oh. I see. Of course.”

“Other wildlings say it’s because this way they’re safe from the demons who come searching. They can’t come for someone without a name.”

“You don’t believe that?” Dany asked.

“I never had cause to believe in gods and demons, milady,” Gilly said.

Dany cleared her throat, regretting having ventured down this subject. “Well, about the Midnight Fortress, Sam is more than well acquainted with the castle, he will know everything and everyone. I have written a letter to Aunt Ayla, she will be more than delighted to have you there — for her, the more the merrier. I wouldn’t put it past her to have a new cradle already in the nursery by the time you arrive.”

“I wouldn’t dream of imposing, milady.”

“You won’t be. The boys will love the company, I’m certain.”

Gilly smiled timidly. She had been overjoyed when Sam said they could return south before more Free Folk arrived, but she was also nervous about going to a castle filled with southerners and strange customs. Finally, she and Irri carried the last satchel down to the courtyard as Dany brought the baby to where the carriage awaited them.

“Safe travels, my friend,” Jon said as he and Sam hugged. “I trust you to handle the dragonglass mining.”

“I will, don’t worry. Between me and Master Grus, we’ll have the first shipment ready before you get home.”

Jon chuckled. “Make sure to tell Lyanna I miss her every day. And give Little Addam a kiss for me.”

“Gods,” Sam groaned. “I don’t even want to imagine her tantrum when she sees that I’ve returned without you!”

“Lord Tarly!” Maester Aemon arrived, cutting through Jon’s laughter. “I’ve got something for you.” He offered a large package. Sam picked it up with shaking hands and gasped when he pulled the wrapping away and saw the cover.

“A History of Valyria! But this… gods, is this the whole book?”

“Yes,” the Maester said with a smile. “It was a gift from my father when he sent me to the Citadel, though the maesters there were largely uninterested.”

“But… I didn’t even know there was a copy of the entire book still in existence!” Sam said, overwhelmed. “I have only ever seen or heard of separate scrolls! Even in Winterfell there were pieces missing!”

“Yes, yes, I believe this might just be the last complete copy,” the old man said.

“Maester… it honours me to receive this gift, but I can't—”

“A blind man reads no books, Lord Tarly,” Maester Aemon said. “Consider this my legacy to someone who loves knowledge as much as I do.”

Crying, Sam hugged the book against his chest. “I shall treat it like the immensurable treasure it is, Maester.”

“I know you will, Tarly, I know you will. I set aside a small trunk of volumes for you to take south for my niece, and I shall have a bigger trunk following with Lord and Lady Starling. Consider it a wedding gift from House Targaryen, however late it is.”

“I shall consider it as a gift from you, Maester Aemon,” Jon said. “And I'm sure Lady Starling will agree.”

“What do I agree with?” Dany asked. And she was also fascinated with the books, pieces of her heritage returned to her.

“We are ready to go when you wish, Lord Tarly,” Leeds said.

“Yes, we should go,” Sam said. “Make use of daylight hours.”

He reverently set the book in the carriage and turned to say goodbye to everyone. Once the group had left and the brothers were closing the gates, Jon turned to Dany with a small smile.

“How much do you want to bet that by the time we make it home there will be a copy of the part he hasn’t seen yet ‘for safe keeping’?”

“Well, hopefully we’ll be home before he has time to make a copy of the whole thing,” she replied with a smile. “But by the year’s end I’m sure we’ll find at least two copies stashed in opposite sides of the castle.”

Laughing, they went back inside.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Orell had been right and it was just before sunset when the horn sounded, announcing Mance Rayder’s arrival.

“Are you ready for this?” Benjen asked as he and Ned watched from the catwalk as the brothers rushed into the tunnel.

“I have dealt with Tywin Lannister and how many others with their ridiculous political manoeuvres in King's Landing. I think I can handle the King Beyond the Wall. Especially because I know my little brother has my back,” Ned joked, making his way down to the courtyard.

Benjen snorted. _Blessed are you, Ashara Dayne,_ he thought. _He is making jokes now!_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very much look forward to hearing your thoughts on my theory in the comments :)


	6. Chapter 6

Arianne walked through the open corridors of Sunspear, a lazy breeze from the sea making the mousseline of her dress flutter and blow around her. She finally found the courtyard she wanted and, as she suspected, her uncle was perched on a hammock, sleeping the afternoon away.

“Dreaming about your travels, Uncle?” she asked, reaching for the iced wine and pouring herself a cup before curling luxuriously in a chaise away from the shadow.

“Better than dreaming about cold duty,” Oberyn replied, not moving from his place. “Your father sends his regards.”

“I doubt that,” Arianne muttered. “Has he stopped complaining?”

“No, not yet. He insists we were robbed of what was our right with the Rebellion and that we are both now going against his master plan.”

She scoffed. “His master plan was to rob _me_ of _my_ birthright.”

“His plan was to make you queen,” Oberyn reminded.

“A puppet, a nobody to push some brats out for the throne. I don’t have the temperament for being a consort. I'm sorry if it cost Father his dream of a Dornish consort.”

“Well, the consort will still be Dornish. Only a Dornishman, not a Dornishwoman,” Oberyn said with a shrug.

“His name was Snow, Uncle, not Sand,” Arianne pointed out.

“Oh, my dear niece, as the poet said, ‘what's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet’. Snow or Sand, Jon Starling is the son of a Dornish lady, his blood runs hot like ours.”

“Of course, Uncle,” she rolled her eyes. “But in something I must agree with Father. It is past time we get what was promised to us: Martell blood on the Iron Throne. You were right in thinking I would very much prefer ruling Sunspear to posing as consort to a plucked dragon, but when we manage our plot of helping Daenerys Targaryen reclaim her throne, we must ensure that there is an alliance with a Martell. She is already married, but she has children as well. I think it is time I am married as well, so I can have a daughter we can offer to be Addam Targaryen’s queen in the future.”

“I heard a rumour that Jon Starling made his firstborn the heir before she was born, regardless of being a girl,” Oberyn said.

“Well, no matter, I can have a son then. The point remains the same.” Arianne waved it off. “Though I must say, I like him better now that I see his Dornish blood showing.”

“Who have you decided to marry? And does your father agree?”

“Well, I have written to Father, though I am still expecting his response. I thought about Edric Dayne, as their House is one of the most powerful Dornish Houses and they are bound to be powerful in Westeros since they will be so close to the throne.”

“He is already Lord of Starfall, Ari,” the Prince reminded her. “And he is at least ten years your junior.”

“Well, it was only a thought. And age is a detail, he is old enough to be married, what difference does it make?”

“Would you enjoy being married to a child?” Oberyn asked. “I very much doubt so.”

“I can be married to him and bear his children and still find pleasure elsewhere. It could be arranged, after all, if he would agree to have our firstborn as heir to Sunspear and the second as the heir to Starfall, but I do see your point. We always have Ser Gerold Dayne,” she said with a dangerous smile.

Oberyn rolled his eyes, all too aware (perhaps too much aware) of his niece’s thoughts on the matter. So that was why Arianne had mentioned Edric, knowing it would be unlikely.

“If your idea is to get closer to the throne through a connection to House Dayne, I suggest you steer clear of Darkstar. There is no man more dangerous in all of Dorne.”

“He is a Dayne,” Arianne insisted.

“We cannot choose who is born into our House. Stay away from Darkstar, Ari. It will only bring you enemies and problems.”

“Who then, do you suggest?” she asked.

“You have all of Dorne at your disposal, Ari. I'm sure there will be someone who won’t be a problem rather than a solution. Why not Yronwood? They are a powerful House, it would make for a strong alliance.”

Arianne turned her nose. “That would be Ser Cletus. He’s got a lazy eye.”

“May I quote what you just said: ‘I can be married to him and bear his children and still find pleasure elsewhere’. But other than his lazy eye he is quite comely, Ari.”

“It’s a thought, Uncle,” she conceded. “And now that you have mentioned it, I'm sure my father will suggest so. Cletus is, after all, Quentyn’s friend and Father adores everything related to little brother.” Then she snorted. “I don’t think he shall ever forgive either of us for changing the plan to get me and Viserys the Iron Throne while Quentyn and Daenerys rule Sunspear.”

“That plot was first hit when Robert Baratheon gave Daenerys to the North,” Oberyn said. “And now that she is married to Jon Starling we can't even hope that we can avert it. Quentyn never really had a chance to have Sunspear. Viserys Targaryen was lost to us when his father died. Doran’s plot was an empty hope.”

“Well, I suppose that I will wait for Father’s reply while already thinking about what to do next. And I forget: how is the fleet coming along?”

“Slow. We don’t have many trees and doing things secretly always mean moving that much slower as we can’t buy them from elsewhere in the amount we need. But I'm sure we’ll be able to reach the hundredth ship by the next year. And on that: did you consider attending Robb Stark and Margaery Tyrell’s wedding?”

“I have been invited in name of House Martell, as they know Father doesn’t travel and they wouldn’t dare exclude us. I wasn’t thinking too hard on it, no. I supposed you would want to go with Ellaria.”

“Well, I am going, as Lady Stark invited me in my own right, ‘so long as you learn to keep your tongue under control’,” he mimicked mockingly.

Arianne laughed. “Hasn’t she learnt better by now?”

“I'm sure she has. But she won't miss the chance to annoy me.” Oberyn shrugged. “The wedding will be a good opportunity to sound them for the possibility of this betrothal between your child and the Starling heir. It would go better if you were at least betrothed by then, Ari. Better yet if the date for the wedding is set.”

“You’re right.” She sighed. “I will ride to the Water Gardens tomorrow, then. Talk with my father in person and get this settled. I am no blushing maiden anymore, I have three-and-twenty name days already. I suppose it is time to get my marriage settled.”

“Will you really talk or should I come with you and stop you and Doran from getting into a huge fight?”

“Well, you know us, Uncle. Even when we agree, Father and I are always one small step away from a yelling match.”

Oberyn huffed. “Yes, I know. Fine, I will tell Ellaria we are going back to the Gardens tomorrow. The girls will love it.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ella smiled as she saw Dawn flying in the window. With Lyanna’s dream and the improved mood of the direwolves, she had relaxed, but it was nice to have actual words from the Wall anyway. There were two folded parchments within the breastplate, and she turned to find her name scribbled in her brother’s hand in one and Ayla’s on the second. So she sent for her good-sister as she sat to read her letter.

 

_Beloved sister,_

_You are right: something did happen, but all is well now. I have tripled the guards around Jon, but he is already complaining about it, so he is all better. Your stubborn aurochs of a husband thought, and for once I agree, that we should explain all the details in person. But I promise, sister, Jon is well. He will have a scar, but nothing else._

_That said, we are waiting for Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall, to arrive for a negotiation in the next few days and Lord Stark intends to return south as soon as the talks are over. He would like you and the children to meet him in Winterfell. He says he left ten guards with you, but tell Rellos to provide you with a full honour guard so you are safe from any fools._

_Love,_

_Your brother_

 

Ella was relieved, though the concern remained. What so serious had happened that Jon would be left with a scar and the details couldn’t be explained in a letter?

“You sent for me, Ella?” Ayla asked, coming in.

“Yes. Letter from the Wall,” Ella said, handing it over. The other woman crossed the room quickly and took the parchment eagerly.

“It’s from Dany.”

 

_Dear Aunt Ayla,_

_I hope all is well there. How are my babies? I miss them terribly. We will be on our way home soon — and I do hope you will try to knock some sense onto your nephew when we meet, because he has been most reckless and then he gave me the greatest fright of my life. But I shall tell you in person. It suffices to say now that he is well and giving me new wrinkles of worry._

_I write, however, to warn you and ask for you to exercise your hosting skills. Sam has rescued a woman and her newborn son from a bad situation Beyond the Wall and they are to live with us from now on. For reasons Sam will explain better, they are departing before us and should arrive soon. Gilly — that is her name — is lovely and kind and I am sure she will fit right in._

_Also, I know I can trust you to ask the Master Armourer for the absolute best and most beautiful sword he can make: Addam’s sword was destroyed and he is in need of a new one as he has been borrowing Jon’s. On that note, I have included the measurements of Castle Black’s armourer for the jewelled pommel of Jon’s new sword, I would love it if you made sure it was ready when we got home. I would, of course, like a winter diamond to be used._

_Tell Lyanna we miss her so much and we will see her very very soon! Give lots of kisses to Little Addam as well. We miss them and you very much!_

_Love,_

_Lady Daenerys of House Starling, Lady of the Midnight Fortress and the Blessed Island_

 

“What did she say?” Ella asked.

“That Jon was reckless, but he is well.”

“Yes, my brother said much the same.”

“And Sam is coming back with a woman he has rescued,” Ayla continued. “Did your brother mention that his sword was destroyed?”

 “No!” Ella gasped, her mind racing through what could possibly have happened. Then she shrugged. “I doubt he will miss that one very much.”

“Yes, I agree,” Ayla smiled, remembering the wonderful sword he had had on his hip when they had first met. That one was a sword to be proud of. “Well, I must go. I have to prepare for Sam and the woman, Gilly’s arrival. She’s bringing her son, so another cradle for the nursery, and if Sam rescued her, then I doubt she fled with a trunk, so I must ask Kira to start on the set for a few new dresses and also baby clothes and blankets. Then down to the armoury to commission your brother’s new sword. Do you have need of something?”

“Yes, actually. Ned asked me to meet him in Winterfell with the children. As they are leaving south soon, I suppose I should be on my way too.”

“Oh, of course. I will ask the maids to start making the preparations.”

“Thank you, Ayla.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

After a dinner of courtesies and a night of rest from their travels, Lord Commander Mormont had found a room that would fit him and Maester Aemon; Mance and his lieutenants; Ned, Benjen, Jon, and Robb for the negotiations. After breakfast, they all gathered and begun discussing the points Jon, Robb, and Val had already presented.

“You have exposed your terms, Mance Rayder,” Ned started, “and now I must expose those of the Iron Throne.”

“You mean that the southern king has been consulted?” Mance asked. “Does he even know what is happening?”

“I did not leave the capital for a voyage,” Ned said. “The King is aware of my reasons to come to the Wall and has entrusted me to negotiate on his behalf.”

The truth was that Robert had been barely coherent when Ned had explained why he was leaving the Red Keep and he very much doubted the King had retained the information. But the fact remained that, as Hand of the King, Ned had been given the power to negotiate on the Throne’s behalf.

“Very well,” Mance said, though still unconvinced. “what are your terms?”

“As the Night's Watch is an independent order and the Gift is under the authority of Lord Commander Mormont, it is his decision to open the gate. However, we are prepared to support the decision and incorporate the Free Folk into the Seven Kingdoms. On the condition that you yield your position of king and recognise the sovereignty of the Iron Throne.”

“I am the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Lord Stark. The Free Folk are my people,” Mance said.

“I understand that,” Ned said. “But, as you said, you are king _beyond the Wall_. Once you cross to this side of the Wall, you have no power. However, I am prepared to give you a lordship and a castle, on the condition that you bend the knee to the Iron Throne.”

“I will not bend the knee. I will not subject my people to the whims of a King who knows nothing about us and our way of life.”

“Mance, perhaps we should take Lord Stark’s offer into consideration before any harsh decisions?” Val said. “Would you allow us some time for a discussion amongst ourselves, my lord?”

Ned nodded. “As I must return south soon, I have need to settle the issue quickly, so I propose we meet again after luncheon.”

Then he, Mormont, and Benjen stood and left the room.

“Before you think about what you want, Your Grace, perhaps you should think about what your people _need_ ,” Robb said, standing up.

“Isn’t their survival more important than your pride?” Jon asked.

“If you think I spent twenty years bringing all the warring tribes Beyond the Wall together because of pride, Jon Starling, you really know nothing,” Mance said.

Jon pursed his lips, annoyed, but only led Maester Aemon out of the room.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“Mance, you need to reconsider,” Val said once they were left alone. “You need to give up some of your authority over to them.”

“My people trusted me,” the wildling king said. “The chieftains gave up their claims in _my_ name because they trust me. How can I give them to the mercy of some king who knows nothing about their lives and customs?”

“It’s not about giving their lives to this king’s mercy, Mance,” Val argued. “Take their offer of lordship. Insist on keeping to our customs and accept their castle, it’s the only way we can settle on their lands and still keep our ways. This is how you protect them. ”

“We can take the Wall,” Mance insisted.

“That was the plan before we met the lordling,” Tormund pointed out.

“Look at the place around you, Tormund,” Mance said, waving off-handily around the room. “We can take the Wall, we can cross over. If we sneak enough men to this side…”

“Aye, we can take the Wall,” the redhead cut in. “A few days of fight, giants and mammoths from the north, a few men and women attacking from the south and, as long as the southern lords are gone with their guards, we can take the Wall and Castle Black. But then, once the lords hear about it, do you really think they will sit back and let us settle here in peace?”

“Tormund has a point,” Orell said. “The Wall protects the Watch from us, it has for thousands of years. But there is no protection from the south. This castle cannot house all hundred thousand of us and we cannot protect our line from the south. We must be in friendly terms or they will attack us. If enough men march north, we can’t keep Seven Kingdoms away.”

“Even in friendly terms, we cannot be simpleminded and think everyone will rejoice in our presence,” Val added. “There will still be those who will seek to drive us out. We must have a strong deal to force them to respect us as much as we are going to have to respect them.”

“A lordship is from father to son, Val,” Mance reminded. “That is not our way. Whatever power our people gave me, it does not automatically go the child your sister carries. He or she will have to earn it like I did.”

“Our way is going to die, Mance!” she exclaimed. “Unless we compromise a little. Unless we bend a little bit to their way of living, we are all going to be slaughtered and then brought back to life as mindless soldiers for that evil creature. You, me, Dalla, your child, Tormund, Orell, Jarl, even Styr. If we hope to survive, we need to cross the Wall and we need to join forces with them. And if they must accept us, then we must learn to accept them as well.”

Mance huffed, annoyed, and went to look out the small window.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Taena was finishing lacing up her dress when Ella heard the knock on the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were dressed already,” Ayla said after she was allowed in.

“Cregan was having trouble sleeping last night so I overslept this morning,” Ella said and then frowned. “Why are you wearing a travelling cloak?”

“I hope you don’t mind. I made the decision last night and didn’t want to disturb you after you had retired. We are coming with you to Winterfell. If Sam is sailing south, then Jon and Dany will come by land as there are no more ships at Eastwatch. Willem Flint, the castellan, can hold the castle for a few days until Sam arrives and takes over.”

“Oh.” Ella said, fastening the cloak the handmaiden settled over her shoulders. “Of course I won't mind. But are you sure? It is a long journey to bring a toddler and two babies.”

“The thought of seeing her parents will make Lyanna behave and Rickard and Little Addam will like the motion of the carriage. They won’t be any trouble.”

“Well, then I will be delighted with the company. I was dreading Cregan’s reaction to being the only baby again.”

Ayla smiled. “Well, then I suppose all that’s left is getting the children down to the carriage.”

“That promises to be a task!” Ella said and the left the room together, laughing.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Gendry walked through the bustling courtyard, avoiding busy servants carrying trunks and loads for the wagons. Most of the supplies had already been moved to the harbour for the voyage to the continent, but there were always last-moment things. He found her where he suspected he would: checking the horses, wearing breeches under her travelling cloak. Of course she wouldn’t hide inside the carriage with the children, but sit atop her horse amidst the men.

“Are you going to write or are you going to forget me?” Arya asked with a smile.

“I doubt I could forget the least lady-like lady I’ve ever met,” he answered, smiling back. “I’ll write. If you’ll have the patience for my clumsy letters.”

“I will always have patience for a friend,” she said.

He chuckled. “Here.” He extended the dagger. “It took me a bit too long to finish the pommel, but I got it done.”

With a blinding smile, Arya took the blade and gasped. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, seeing the detail of the pommel: sculpted in shining bronze there was a wolf’s head.

“I know that Nymeria stays when you go back to the capital, so I thought to give you some token of her to always keep you company.”

“I loved it,” she said, unsheathing the dagger. It was thinner than usual, though not as thin as Needle.

“Arya!” Hot Pie called, running up to them. “I’m glad I caught you! Thought I wouldn’t have time to say goodbye.”

“Aunt Ayla is coming with the kids, so it’s taking longer.”

“Well, here,” the boy extended a satchel. “I’ve got a few cakes and pies for you. And I took a few extra pieces of Nymeria’s favourite rice cake from the kitchens. I know she’ll hunt once you make it to dry land, but it’s good desert.”

“Thanks, Hot Pie! You spoil us both, but I love it anyway.”

“What are friends for?” he said, shrugging.

“So, since your sword was so aptly named, what are you gonna call this one?” Gendry asked.

“Fang,” Arya replied, looking at her shiny new dagger. “And I should have fun threatening Joffrey with it.” They all laughed.

“Arya, love, we’re leaving,” called Ella. “Say goodbye to your friends.”

“Sure!” she called back and then surprised the boys by hugging them. “I’ll miss you! Don’t forget to write!”

“Oh. That means we have to continue lessons?” Hot Pie asked. Arya laughed as she mounted her horse and Gendry cuffed the back of his head.

“You’d better!” she exclaimed, kicking the horse into trotting after the carriage.

“I'm gonna miss ‘er,” the baker said. “There ain’t many girls like her.”

“Too bad,” Gendry said, watching her go, “the world would be a funnier place.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

After much talk and much disagreement, Ned, Mormont, and Mance finally got to a deal that was acceptable to everyone: the Free Folk would cross south and their able men and women would help the Night's Watch to man the Wall; Mance would be given command and a seat at the Nightfort, where he would rule his people no longer as king, but as Lord Rayder, Lord of the Free Folk; they would still need to pay taxes to the Night's Watch, but only after their third harvest; Mance bent the knee (very unwillingly) and recognised the Iron Throne’s authority and sovereignty, but remarked that it would only hold for so long as his people were respected as part of the Seven Kingdoms.

All in all, Ned thought it could have gone a lot worse. Mance had complained and complained but, in the end, he had been convinced by Val’s argument that the united Seven Kingdoms were too strong and if the Free Folk managed to take the Wall from the weaker Night's Watch, it wouldn’t be able to hold it for long against the southerners. The Lord Commander had also been very amenable to the idea of slightly changing the taxes owed by the lords: instead of sending men, gold, and supplies, the Watch would accept more supplies from northern kingdoms and only gold, partially converted in dragonglass, from the southern kingdoms — with the Free Folk joining, manpower ceased being an issue. Also, it served better to receive the gold than to continue being ignored. On the matter of the overdue taxes, Ned had promised to talk with the lords paramount about a payment plan.

“You know,” Benjen said when he and his brother were alone, waiting for the last of their trunks to be loaded into carts for their journey south on the Kingsroad, “none of the lords will even remotely enjoy the idea. Why didn’t you try and cut a deal with Mormont to minimise it?”

“Because I have another plan,” Ned said. “With the income of men and supplies that are already here, I do think I can convince Mormont to agree to a payment by several instalments, over a number of years. At the same time, I can have the lords pay the Treasury and the Treasury will in turn pay the Watch. Only we will pay the Watch only half of what the lords pay us, though for double the time, so we can bring the Treasury to a standing balance once more.”

“So you want to solve two problems at once?”

“I want to try,” Ned said. “If we raise taxes again, people will outrage, but if in turn I charge, by small blows, some tax they had to pay and neglected, then it will be different. Especially if there is some deal about the hundreds of years’ worth of interest. This way, we’ll at least be able to stop borrowing more money and, in a few years, we might be able to bring the Treasury back to balance.”

“It’s a good plan.” Benjen smiled. “Is that what has been keeping you awake at night ever since we first pushed off the Blessed Island?”

Ned snorted. “You try having Seven Kingdoms on your back, with the added hassle of Robert’s extravagant whims, then we will talk about tranquil nights. But to answer your question: yes, that has been keeping me awake for a while, and Maester Aemon was very helpful in getting to a concrete plan. Now come on, I can’t wait to be back home. It’s been years!”

Chuckling, Benjen followed him down to the courtyard, where their horses waited. He couldn’t deny he would enjoy stopping by Winterfell, even though he wished he were going straight home: he couldn’t wait to see his wife and son again.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The journey south on the Kingsroad has been long and hard. Having not prepared for this big of a group, they only had the one small tent Dany had brought and shared with her handmaidens and the men slept around the fire. Irri complained that the northern grass didn’t allow for weaving like that of the Dothraki Sea, or she could make tents for all of them. But it wasn’t so terrible and they managed to find enough firewood to keep warm every night. Though after their trip Beyond the Wall, Jon and Robb would never complain about cold again.

It was mid-afternoon when they rode through Wintertown, where the smallfolk had gathered to cheer their lord’s arrival. When they came to the gates of the castle, Ned stopped for a moment and contemplated it.

“After fostering in the Vale, after the Rebellion, I never thought I would live away from this place again,” he said quietly to Benjen.

“And what do you think now?”

“That I can’t wait to leave the stinking hellhole of a capital and come back home with my wife and children.”

With a big smile, Ned kicked his horse into a gallop and raced down the path. Benjen chuckled as he followed, happy to be in his childhood home again.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

After being agitated the whole morning, an odd feeling of anticipation in the pit of his stomach, Jon smiled when the bells and horns started to ring. They had been in Winterfell for two days already and Ella’s raven said she was going to arrive today.

“I guess that is Lady Stark coming home,” Theon said.

“Come on,” Robb said, rolling his eyes, “let’s welcome them. I want to meet my little brother.”

They had barely formed at the courtyard when the riders led the carriage through the gates, Stark and Starling banners flying. Jon frowned, wondering why his winter rose was here at all, but then his heart raced beneath the ugly scar on his chest. Nymeria, Lady, and Shaggydog trailed in as well and when Ned came to the steps a page opened the door to the carriage and an unmistakable giggle came from inside as Lyanna, in her exuberant fashion, jumped into Ned’s arms with a squeal of ‘gwanpa!’.

Ned laughed, delighted, hugging her as Jon smiled and came forward. She saw him coming and gasped. “Papa! Papa! Papa!” she said, extending her little hands. Ned surrendered his charge and Jon took her in his arms, smiling from ear to ear. “I miss you, Papa!” she said.

“I missed you too, little love!”

Lyanna laughed and hugged him, burying her nose in his neck. Chuckling, Ned held out his hand to help Ella come out of the carriage.

“Lady Stark, welcome to Winterfell!”

She smiled, her purple eyes sparkling with joy, and Ned couldn’t help but smile back: it was the first time, ever since he left her in Starfall all those years ago, that she was wearing purple.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Due to complete lack of time, I didn't have time to answer last chapter's comments and I decided to answer them later rather than delay updating. 
> 
> Don't forget to comment on this one, as it's the only payment I get for writing this :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Starks and Starlings have a much anticipated reunion in Winterfell as Ned asks Ella some questions about what happened in the past.

Ella sighed with relief when the maid unlaced her corset and the heavy dress fell off her body.

“One thing I have to agree with Arya,” she said, putting on her robe and coming out from behind the screen. “We should travel with far more comfortable clothes.”

“I still don’t understand the reason for bloody corsets,” Ned said from his place at the window.

“Well, it was never said that fashion had logic or reason.” Then she smiled. “You are relishing the cold, aren’t you?”

“I most certainly am. And the fresh smell too. That city stinks.”

“It does. They should have planned it like Daenerys planned the village next to their castle. I was impressed. And you, beautiful creature,” she petted the direwolf that was spread on the fur in front of the fireplace, “what is your name?”

Ned chuckled. “I thought about asking Maester Luwin to search the list of the direwolves of old, but then I wasn’t sure any would fit. Then I thought Silver was a good name.”

“Well, don’t let Rickon hear me, but it’s better than Shaggydog.” She smiled, giving the wolf one last pet. “That will be all for now, thank you,” she told the maid, who all but bolted from the room. She turned to Ned with a raised brow.

“Catelyn always made sure to send the servants away before I came into the room. No doubt she was scared of what might happen before she left.”

“Oh, please. As if.” She rolled her eyes. “Now. While I do believe you missed me and that you are very happy to show me around Winterfell, I think you have a question you wish to ask me,” Ella said, curling herself on an armchair.

Ned smiled softly, his heart warm and light at seeing her make herself at home. “It’s nothing urgent. You’ve been travelling for days, we do not…”

“I am quite well now that I have full access to my lungs. And knowing you, the gods know how long you have been stewing on it. So tell me, what is it?”

Ned exhaled, turning back to the window, watching the green planes of the Wolfswood beyond the walls of Winterfell. _Prince Rhaegar was aware that the White Walkers were real and that they were going to come south in the near future,_ Addam had told Sam. _He had some sort of plan regarding the wildlings._

“Your brother spoke briefly of Rhaegar’s plans regarding the White Walkers,” Ned finally said, still looking out the window.

Ella stiffened. She had not expected that. “I know he believed in them,” she said. “But I have no idea what these plans were.”

“Aye. But that got me thinking. If he had plans… why wouldn’t he put them in place?”

“Because Aerys would laugh at them and say Rhaegar had inherited the Targaryen madness the King refused to see in himself,” Ella stated matter-of-factly. “You know how mad ‘White Walkers’ will sound down in the capital. You wouldn’t believe in them at first glance, only because Jon and Robb are the ones who reported them, and you're a Northerner, how do you think the southerners will receive it?”

“Rumours travel faster than truth in this realm…” he started after a moment, skirting her question.

“Ned, what do you want to know?” she asked with a sigh.

“What was the reason behind Harrenhall?”

Ella uncurled herself and sat up straight. “If you are asking it is because you already know.”

“I would like you to tell me. I need to know.”

“You might not be glad of it,” she insisted.

“I would rather a hard truth than a pretty lie. And I know the Rebellion was a lie. I would like the full truth now.”

She took a fortifying breath. “Rhaegar liked to read, he always did. At one point, in one of his scrolls, he found a prophecy. Addam knows the details better, but I know is that it involves a war against White Walkers, and that is why he began training with swords. That’s all I know about it, actually.”

“And Harrenhall?” Ned asked. That was he question that had been haunting him. “ _Why_ was there a Tourney? I doubt Lord Whent did it out of boredom.”

“It begins a bit before that actually.” She sighed, giving in. “I was but a girl when Rhaegar and Elia married and she invited me to be her handmaiden. Viserys was born half a year later and the King was paranoid with everything and everyone. He went as far as having his tester drink from the wet nurse to make sure she wasn’t smearing poison on her nipples after the Queen’s milk dried up. But where the other children didn’t live longer than a few months, Viserys was strong and healthy, the first one to live to his first year since Rhaegar. And the King was sure he finally had another son who would grow up to be a strong prince. Rhaella despaired: Aerys was convinced it was his oath of fidelity, after he had his mistress executed for Prince Jaehaerys’ death, that ensured Viserys’ health, so of course he wouldn’t leave her alone. Aerys was starting to give away too much paranoia and persecutory delusions, but he was still somewhat reasonable. And then Dukensdale happened.”

“The gods only know what really happened to him during that imprisonment,” Ella continued, “but the truth is that he lost what little reason he had left. No longer could Rhaegar hide it nor the Small Council circumvent it. If before Aerys’ jealousy and refusal of Cersei’s hand had created a rift between him and Tywin, now there was a chasm. The King believed that Tywin and Rhaegar were acting to have him killed in his cell to have the Prince crowned. So if Rhaegar already resented his father for his treatment of his mother, now there was near war between them. He took Elia and Rhaenys and moved them back to Dragonstone, making an alternative Court — which people loved much more. But things kept deteriorating to the point that he could no longer wait for Aerys’ death: his judgements were crueller than ever and the lords were starting to raise their murmurs of rebellion. Harrenhall was no simple tourney, you are right. It was a plot. It was a plot for Rhaegar to gather support to dethrone his father and get the lords once more on the side of House Targaryen.”

“But why didn’t he _do_ something, then?” Ned asked.

“Because somehow Varys found out, and he discovered there were lords who planned to betray Rhaegar, so he told Aerys. The King came to the Tourney so it was impossible for Rhaegar to do as he wanted.”

“And then he met my sister.” Ned snorted. “‘And all the smiles died’.”

“And then he met your sister and he fell in love with her bravery. And she told him of her betrothal to Robert and Rhaegar then discovered their plot.”

Ned frowned. “Plot? What plot?”

She blinked and frowned. The she shook her head. “You are still too naïve when it comes to politics, Ned. After centuries and centuries, thousands of years of marrying within the North, maybe as far as the Vale only, didn’t you ever wonder why your father suddenly betrothed his heir to the eldest daughter of the Lord of Riverrun? Why he promised Lyanna away to the Lord of Storm’s End? These marriages didn’t support _Robert’s_ Rebellion, Ned. Nor was it Rhaegar and Lyanna running away. Rebellion had been in the making for years. Rhaegar did it all wrong in trying to kill the plot he saw rising against his House, but the fact is that it was a matter of time. Perhaps when each of those marriages had taken place, perhaps even had an heir been born already, then they would rise. But Robert didn’t manage to get his side so strong in so little time out of his charm during one conversation. The lines had already been drawn and everything was triggered when Rhaegar and Lyanna ran away and Aerys did what he did to your father and brother.”

Ned stared out the window for a long time and Ella begun to worry.

“What about Elia Martell?” he finally asked.

“You said you didn’t want to know,” she said. “In Starfall and then when we met again in King's Landing, you asked me to not mention it. Or anything from back then.”

“I know. But now I want, I _need_ to know. The High Septon told me Rhaegar and Lyanna were married and that his marriage to Elia Martell was annulled. But _why_? Why would he set her aside and why would she agree?”

“It was her idea,” Ella replied. “Well, I think it had occurred to Rhaegar, but he wouldn’t have mentioned it unless she did. She heard him talking to the High Septon about taking a second wife and—”

“Taking a second wife!” Ned exclaimed turning to face her. “That’s… that’s just wrong!”

“Not in Valyria,” she replied. “Targaryens abandoned the practice because of the Faith Militant, but that is neither here nor there. After Aegon’s birth, the maesters said another pregnancy would kill Elia. Rhaegar thought a second wife, while unorthodox, would be more honourable than a string of mistresses. In any case, Elia said that as long as Aegon was the heir, then she preferred to have the marriage annulled. As they were both pressured by their families into an arranged match, the High Septon agreed to the annulment when he heard that the marriage would produce no more heirs and Rhaegar sought to not betray his wife. After Harrenhall, I wasn’t in the Dragonstone for more than a moon before I rushed back to Starfall but Elia wrote to me that the plan was to have her and the children in Dorne as soon as possible. Lyanna’s refusal to marry Robert, which prompted your father to send her to Riverrun, made Rhaegar drop everything to go after her and they committed the idiocy to run and hide instead of taking the time to do things properly.”

Ned sighed. “She shouldn’t… she should never have run and hidden away like a criminal. What did they think would happen?”

“My father offered her asylum in Starfall, even if he thought Rhaegar was wanting too much at once, and when the realm was already with their hackles up. He suggested that she stay there while Rhaegar secured the realm and then they could be open. But by then they were too far in love. He thanked my father for the offer and the safe passage and off into the mountains they went.”

“And you knew my sister had run away rather than been kidnapped and you were carrying my child and still you thought it best to keep quiet,” he said acidly.

It was her turn to sigh. “We’ve had this conversation, Ned. I know it has been eighteen years, but I thought you had understood my reasons behind my silence about Lyarra. And forgiven me. And in what regards to Lyanna, she begged me to keep quiet.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

She crossed to him and nudged his face to look at her. “There was too much secrecy and lies and stupid decisions back then, Ned. None of us are innocent and none of us are the villains of this tale. We all made mistakes and thousands were killed for it. Our realm was torn apart because of the madness of one man, hubris and greed from a few, and sheer stupidity from others. We can’t keep reliving this. We can't keep letting this define nor bury us. Not if we want to atone and heal our land and our people.”

He smiled weakly, cupping her cheeks lovingly, then drawing her into a hug, and they were silent for several moments.

“Your brother is right,” Ned said.

Ella chuckled. “I won't tell him you said that, don’t worry.”

“I’d appreciate that, actually,” he chuckled as well.

“What is he right about?”

“Lyanna put Seven Kingdoms on my hands the day she died and I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to do anything about it. I spent sixteen years up here with my head buried in the snow thinking it was the best to protect my family when all the while the realm was falling to pieces. The realm I had been made responsible for.”

“Ned…”

“No, it’s the truth. Rhaegar’s death, and then Aerys’, made her the regent and she passed that on to me when she gave me Jon’s custody.”

“Ned… what are you saying?” Ella asked, confused. All this time since they had met again in King's Landing, he had been very vocal about his oath to Robert and how he couldn’t betray that. Now he was basically saying that he… but he wouldn’t, would he?

“I made an oath to Robert, I sat him in the Iron Throne. But Robert has no heirs of his own. I made no promises to Stannis and seeing as to how he ran and hid like a coward at the first sign of trouble rather than doing the right thing and trying to uncover Jon Arryn’s murder or at least informed someone of his suspicions, I do not trust his judgement or ability to be king. I will get this realm in order because I am Hand of the King but also because my sister passed that mantle on to me. And when we have proven that Joffrey has no right to the throne, I will happily pass the mantle on to Jon.”

Ella smiled. “That is very underhanded of you, Lord Stark.”

“Well,” he said, “isn’t that the game in King's Landing?”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Maester Luwin recoiled from the door as if touching it were akin to touching a lightning bolt. He had come to deliver the ledgers Lord Stark had requested, but had dropped a leaf just outside the door and ended up listening to a conversation he had never imagined possible, not even in his wildest dreams.

He knew he should have knocked and interrupted or walked away the moment he realised his lord and lady were speaking. But by then he had heard the first secret and was frozen in place. _Rebellion had been in the making for years… Rhaegar and Lyanna ran away… Rhaegar and Lyanna were married and his marriage to Elia Martell was annulled… My father offered her asylum in Starfall… You knew my sister had run away rather than been kidnapped and you were carrying my child… Lyanna put Seven Kingdoms on my hands the day she died… Rhaegar’s death, and then Aerys’, made her the regent and she passed that on to me when she gave me Jon’s custody… When we have proven that Joffrey has no right to the throne, I will happily pass the mantle on to Jon…_

_Rhaegar and Lyanna were married…_

_Lyanna put Seven Kingdoms on my hands the day she died…_

_Rhaegar’s death, and then Aerys’, made her the regent and she passed that on to me when she gave me Jon’s custody…_

_… when she gave me Jon’s custody…_

_… when she gave me Jon’s custody…_

_… when she gave me Jon’s custody…_

The sentence echoed in the maester’s head. He stepped back carefully, retracing his steps back to the door.

“Maester are you well?” Hallis asked from his post.

“Quite well, thank you.”

“I will help you to your chambers in any case, Maester,” Jory said, stepping forward.

“Oh, but that is not necessary…” Maester Luwin tried to say.

“I insist,” Jory said. The Maester nodded and they turned to leave, before he turned back.

“Hallis, Lord and Lady Stark will not be receiving any more guests. Let no one past the outer door, much less the bedchamber. Not even maids, unless they call.”

The guard frowned but didn’t have time to say anything before the two men left.

“I can see you heard something that shocked you, Maester,” Jory said once they were inside his solar. “With those two, I can imagine several options.”

“What do you know?” Maester Luwin asked, still pale.

“I am Captain of Lord Stark’s Household Guard. I stand at their door, so I know quite a lot. Winterfell is filled with secrets. But they are good people.”

“I will not tell a soul if that is what worries you, Jory Cassel,” the maester said. “I may have sworn my life to the Citadel, but my loyalty is to House Stark.”

“Good,” the guard said. “I like you, Maester. You’re different from the greedy fool who came before you. And whatever you heard _will_ remain a secret.”

“I can't quite believe it, actually,” the maester mumbled, reaching for his chair. “Everyone always wondered… I was sure she was the mother once they married…”

Jory stiffened, gathering enough. “He is a Stark, Maester. No matter what they call him, he’s got the blood of the wolf.”

“But that is not…”

“My father died for this lie,” Jory said between his teeth. “He died trying to save her and that was her last wish. It _will_ stand, on my honour.”

“As I said, I would not speak of it. Though do forgive me for being shocked at hearing just _who_ the elusive woman who would sway Lord Eddard Stark of his honour was.”

Jory chuckled. “Don’t worry, Maester, in a moment you’ll be wanting to kick yourself for not having thought of it.”

The guard turned to leave and it was the elder man’s turn to chuckle. “The ‘one stain in Lord Stark’s honour’, that is what they whisper.”

“And so will they continue. Good day, Maester.”

Luwin sat back on his chair, processing the overwhelming information. ‘ _Rebellion had been in the making for years_ ’. ‘ _You’re different from the greedy fool who came before you_ ’.

He had been appointed to his post in Winterfell during the Rebellion, after Maester Walys had died. Crossing the Riverlands at that time was a dangerous feat, though, and as the Archmaester knew Lady Catelyn was in her father’s home in Riverrun while Lord Stark fought in the war, that is where he sent the new maester of Winterfell.

Upon his arrival in the North, after the fighting was done, the servants had already cleared away the old maester’s personal belongings. Luwin had found a few scrolls and personal letters and put it in a trunk and set it aside, because he abhorred the destruction of any information. He had never expected to one day feel the urge to even go in search of it, but in light of what he had just heard… ‘ _Rebellion had been in the making for years’_. If the former Lord of Winterfell had been forming alliances, with or without his maester’s support or knowledge, there would at least be records of letters exchanged. It seemed it was time to hope that bookworms had left the scrolls alone.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon threw himself unceremoniously on the armchair, panting. Lyanna wanted to play and she had way too much energy for that. Daenerys had distracted her for a moment, though, so he could rest.

“She missed you and asked for you every day,” Ayla said.

“I missed her too,” Jon said, looking at where his wife and daughter played with a fond smile. “But I had to go.”

She sighed. “Well, are you going to tell me what happened that the direwolves were howling and I had the worst feeling in my heart?”

“You had a feeling?”

“Jon, love, I have told you once, I think of you as my own son. Yes, I was anguished. Now, what happened that made my heart shrink?”

He jumped out his armchair and knelt by hers, pulling her into a hug she returned just as fiercely. Jon felt tears filling his eyes as his heart burst. Growing up, all he ever wanted was a mother. Watching Lady Catelyn care for his siblings, he wanted to feel that, to have that. Ayla had tried her best to care for him from a distance, he knew, but she couldn’t incite the ire of her lady and risk being sent away from Winterfell again, so Jon had remained alone. But now that the shadow was no long over them, he was still having a hard time getting used to the fact that there was someone out there who cared for him like a son. Lyanna broke free from her mother and rushed over, wiggling her way into their embrace.

“Me hug too!” she exclaimed. The two broke away, laughing. “Papa! Let’s pway, Papa!”

“Alright, Lya, let’s play!” Jon said, picking her up and throwing her in the air, getting a delighted squeal from the girl.

However, in his rush, he didn’t notice the flagon and cups in the low table next to them and ended up spilling wine all over.

“Ops!” Lyanna said. “Papa ish in twouble!” The adults laughed.

“Come here, little love,” Dany said. “Let’s not ruin your dress, since Papa already ruined his own clothes.”

Ayla stood up and called for the maids. “Go ahead to your dressing room, Jon, I’ll get you a fresh shirt.”

She went in search of Patrik and their luggage, which was certainly still being sorted out. Finding a clean shirt, she went back to Jon and Dany’s chambers, bypassing the front sitting room where Dany and Lyanna were playing and the maids were cleaning the wine spill and going straight to the dressing room.

“Patrik was doing some washing so I brought it—” she froze.

Thinking it was Patrik, Jon had turned around unconcerned with his bare chest and then blushed, uncomfortable with her shock.

“What…” she came closer with a shaky voice, “what happened?”

“I’m fine, Aunt,” Jon said, looking down.

Trembling, Ayla touched the scar to what still seemed like an open wound, her eyes filling with tears and a different kind of anguish filling her. “What happened?” she insisted.

“A man thought he would wash Dany’s honour clean of my bastardy. And he was furious I was the one who helped bring the wildlings south.”

“This isn’t a wound a normal person can survive,” she said in a whisper. “It had to be magic that…”

Jon put her hand on top of hers in his chest. “I’m well, Aunt. I'm right here, talking to you. Whatever happened, I'm here now.”

“This is why Addam wouldn’t write what happened.” A sob escaped her and Jon hugged her again. “You’re forbidden from doing anything dangerous ever again!” she exclaimed. “Do you hear me? This is an order!”

He chuckled. “I promise to be careful.”

“Oh, you!” she snorted, breaking apart to look at him. “You have too much of your mother’s free spirit for me to believe you!”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Being away for so long, Dany didn’t want to let go of her baby son. She had left Jon to entertain Lyanna when the nurse came to say Little Addam was awake, and now that he had fallen back asleep she didn’t want to put him back in his crib. After her near-death experience on the day of his birth, she had never had any milk to feed him, so it was on the moments after he had eaten that she laid him on her chest that she felt the closest to him.

“Our mother loved to tell us that Addam used to slip from his own cradle and stand guard by mine when I was a newborn,” Ella said quietly, having just put Cregan down. “Seeing these three together, I think it’s related to the name.”

Dany smiled, careful not to jostle her son. “I will be so happy and so proud if he grows up to be as honourable as your brother.”

Ella passed her fingers lightly over his curls, the silver-blonde thin hair. “I remember when they stopped by, when Jon was a tiny baby. He had these same ringlets in his hair, he was so cute! I was shocked when I saw these, actually. Targaryens usually had straight hair.”

“Really?” Dany questioned. “I never thought to ask!”

“Really,” Ella replied with a smile. “Your mother’s hair was just like yours, perhaps a little less wavy, but just as long. She took such care of it! And she loved to braid it! Hers and ours, actually. In the beginning, when Rhaegar still lived in the Red Keep, Rhaella would love to have Elia and I over, and it was the best part of our days. She was so loving and caring! She was like a mother to us as well, when we were so far away from our own. And she was so easy to love…”

“You really loved her that much?” Dany asked.

“I had just arrived in Pentos with Addam,” Ella replied, “and then someone asked my name. I couldn’t say it, since everyone thought me dead, and I had just heard about your birth. This is where ‘Ella’ comes from, Dany. From Rhaella. From the woman I loved and admired as a second mother. It is so sad that I got to spend so long with her and you so little. But I know, without a doubt, that she would be so proud of the woman you have become!”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes, Dany, I mean it. Rhaella was one of these rare women who was born exclusively to be a mother. She loved freely and without judgement.”

“But she hated my father, didn’t she?” Dany asked sadly, though with certainty.

“Aerys was a hard man to love,” Ella said. “And… well, they never liked each other as siblings, much less as husband and wife. But for her the sun rose and set with her children. She would face all of the seven hells if it meant protecting any of you.”

Dany smiled sadly. “I grew up blaming myself for killing her.”

“You’re a mother now, Daenerys. Do you still believe that?” Ella asked.

“No. There is no blame when it comes to childbed. But I still long for her.”

“You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. In the end, all we want is to be loved.”

“Ella, would you tell me more? About my mother and Rhaegar?”

“I would love to.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beloved readers!
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this one! As always, I would love to hear your thoughts and impressions, so don't forget to leave comments and kudos.
> 
> Now, for the sad news, midterms approach quickly so I might need to skip an update, thought I'll do my best to keep it coming :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maester Luwin makes a tragic discovery that leads to great turmoil.

With all of his duties, it took Maester Luwin three days to sort through Maester Walys’ old scrolls and the records from Winterfell’s ledgers. And he was now ten times more worried than he had been when he had first heard Lord and Lady Stark talking.

He signed his name to the letter and put the quill down with a resigned sigh. He hadn’t been back to the Citadel ever since his appointment to Winterfell, but he still knew who he could trust at this moment. So he gathered the scrolls that would prove his words and went to the Lord’s solar.

“I have a confession to make, my lord,” Maester Luwin said, making Ned nervous. “The day of Lady Stark’s arrival, I was bringing you the ledgers you had requested and I ended up overhearing your conversation.” Ned stiffened but the maester only continued. “I know I should have made my presence known, but I was… quite shocked at what I heard, so I couldn’t manage to walk away. I trespassed and I have nothing to say for myself other than I am sorry. And reassure you that you need not worry about my loyalty.”

Ella set a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “And what did you hear, Maester?” she asked. The man flushed and looked down, thinking on how to answer.

“That you are Lord Starling’s mother, of course, my lady,” it was Jory who answered, drawing all eyes to him. “And you met in Dorne after the Lady Lyanna had perished from that fever. That is, after all, all there is to be said on the matter.” Silence took over the room as Lord and Lady took in the implications.

“I presume you have a reason for confessing to your indiscretion only three days later, Maester,” Ella finally said.

“I do. After hearing what I heard, I retrieved a trunk of Maester Walys’ correspondence and even his journal. I am very sorry to say that I am ashamed and deeply disturbed with what I discovered.”

“And what did you discover?” Ned asked. “I already know it was Maester Walys who whispered in my father’s ears about betrothing Brandon and Lyanna to the south. What else could there be?”

“Lady Stark said ‘rebellion had been in the making for years’, and so it had,” Luwin said. “This particular scheme had been in the making since the moment Aegon Targaryen and his sisters first conquered Westeros. And no one ever suspected it.”

“What scheme?” Ned asked.

“The maesters,” Ella said. “They hate magic, they hated the dragons. They… they were the ones conspiring?”

Maester Luwin nodded. “I found enough records that prove that the maesters wanted to use the growing discontent, form these alliances, and have them rise in rebellion against the throne. I imagine they couldn’t have hoped to be so successful.”

“Just a moment,” Ned said. “Are you telling us that the Citadel held a three-hundred-year long conspiracy against House Targaryen?”

The maester passed over Maester Walys’ old journal and opened it in the bookmarked page, pointing to the right passage.

 

_Lord Rickard is wavering now. The silly girl, his too-wilful and annoying daughter has declared she will **not** marry Lord Baratheon for he is, in her own words, ‘a rude pig of a man who thinks to honour me is to buy me expensive gifts’. That, and the gossip about his bastard in the Vale and a possible other in the Crownlands, have given her the ‘knowledge’ that Lord Baratheon would be a terrible husband and that she would rather die alone than be married to such a man. Obviously, Lord Rickard tried to dissuade her of this nonsense and tell her it was only hearsay, but I know the man. He will allow her to convince him soon enough and then the alliance will fall apart — he always lets her do whatever she pleases. He is too soft for his children, always has been._

_So I am worried. Especially because Lord Eddard is home now and not even he, a close friend to Lord Baratheon, was able to convince the stubborn girl. Lady Lyarra’s death was regretful in this, then, because at least she would have been able to mould the she-wolf into a proper lady, instead of a wild girl who fancies herself as good as a man._

_I know I must keep Lord Rickard on plan, but how? Aerys Targaryen’s madness has provided us with better cause than ever we had! Well, we had cause during the days of Maegor, but they still had dragons, the flame-breathing monstrosities that we were only able to get rid of a hundred years later. Now, they are dragons in name and sigil only and if we get this block alliance made, then House Targaryen is fallen, and finally! And gone with it all the damned traces of the cursed magic._

_Maester Cressen is certain that Robert Baratheon will be manageable once on the throne and Grand Maester Pycelle is indeed very resourceful, so if we can succeed… well, I would still rather have the Starks upon the throne, since they have a royal lineage, unlike the lowborn Tullys, and Baratheons are too close to Targaryens for comfort, so we should need fresh blood, a family that has never before mixed with that scum to renovate the Royal Family. Therefore, I need to ensure Lord Rickard stays strong. That he forces his bratty daughter into the sept to marry our stag puppet and with Lord Brandon marrying the Tully’s graceless elder daughter, then the alliance is made. We can rise against the throne and declaw those fireless lizards once and for all!_

 

“Maester Walys wrote this?” Ned asked furiously.

“I cannot attest to the truth of his hand, my lord, but I did find it in his belongings,” Luwin said. “There is more… it gets much worse after the Great Tourney and all the gossip brought from Harrenhall. In the days before your Lord Father sent the Lady Lyanna to Riverrun, it gets particularly crude. However, there is one thing I found particularly disturbing. And one I deeply regret to share.” He ruffled through the pages until the second bookmark.

 

_The scheme is safe for now: Lord Rickard sent the Lady Lyanna to Riverrun. She kicked and yelled and complained, even tripped a guard with the train of her dress, but in the end, she went into the carriage—_

 

“She went inside the carriage?” Ella asked, shocked. “What about Winter?”

 “Oh, the fools!” Ned laughed acidly. “She was playing them! She was being exiled from her own home because of a marriage alliance she abhorred and they expected a simple protest would be as far as her reaction would go. My father had no idea who his daughter really was! It would be like me banishing Arya from Winterfell and forcing her to marry Joffrey! Wearing a dress, riding in a carriage, why did my father ever believe that was normal? Lyanna would have ripped her skirts off if she were forced to travel in a dress and she would have been so insufferable if she were kept from riding Winter that she would never have made it to Riverrun not because she ran away, but because she wouldn’t have stopped complaining long enough to leave our courtyard!”

 

_— so like that the matter of the wayward child is taken care of. I doubt Lord Tully will succeed in taming her, but perhaps Lady Catelyn might teach her good-sister enough manners. Well, at least there she will be exposed to the Seven, not these barbaric tree gods. At any rate, she will be married to Lord Baratheon and that will be the end of it._

_This morning, however, I received a message most disturbing. It seems we should have found a way to prevent that blasted Tourney from happening: it was not only the Prince’s heart that was taken in the event. It seems Lady Ashara of House Dayne was successful in charming Lord Eddard. I thought he was so unlike his brother, so honourable and such, but it seems not. Lord Eddard, like Lord Brandon, has started to spread his bastards around the realm._

_Well, fortunately, we are well versed in handling this issue._

 

Ella felt cold go down her spine.

 

_After thinning out House Targaryen to one heir and a weakling child, it will be no trouble at all. The maester in Starfall has misplaced the letter to Lord Eddard, so he knows nothing of the pregnancy, he still believes he can wait for his brother’s marriage before asking his father leave to marry Lady Ashara. And it is very good that Dorne has an abundance of the materials for the necessary potion. If the bastard is strong enough to even be born, it will not live long. After all, we cannot allow for any Targaryen sympathisers. It’s enough that the Queen of Thorns meddled, so we were unable to prevent the Tyrell whelps. And besides, the tragedy of a stillborn — if anyone can mourn a bastard at all — will destabilise House Dayne, perhaps even keep it away from our war. Although it is regrettable that the Sword of the Morning won’t be kept away, not when he is a Kingsguard. Anyway, it should at least have the Daynes at odds with Lord Eddard, since it will seem that he will not care for the bastard._

 

Ned pushed the journal away, breathing hard, shaking in anger. “They… they can’t… they…”

“They killed my daughter,” Ella said. “They killed her from inside me.”

“They murdered an innocent child out of pettiness!” Ned exclaimed. “I never met my daughter because some… some… some _cunt_ decided she was expendable!”

“Ned,” Ella called.

“I am going to make them regret this grand conspiracy of theirs!”

“Ned.”

“I have half a mind to set the whole of the Citadel aflame, so they can feel what dragons could do to them!”

“Ned!”

“What?! They killed our baby girl!”

“They did. And the monster who fed me that potion is still in Starfall!”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ella wiped off her tears quickly at the knock.

“Come in, Robb, dear,” she called.

“Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you, I did not know you were distressed. I will leave you.”

“No, no,” she said. “Come in, love, I know you wouldn’t have come for no reason. Tell me, what is it?”

“Well, seeing you like this only grows my concern, actually. I have just been to Father’s solar and he is very angry about something. I just wanted to make sure he is well. But I think neither of you is.”

Ella let a few tears escape. “I didn’t want to leave him, but he all but kicked us from the room, saying he wanted to be alone.”

Robb came and knelt by her armchair. “What happened? How can I help you?”

Ella finally lost her composure and let sobs consume her. Robb was lost on how to help, but then she pulled him into a hug and he let himself relax into it at the same time guilt flooded him: no one had hugged him — well, other than Dany and Margaery, but they were his sister and his betrothed — since his mother had left.

“You have to be more careful, love,” Ella said once the sobs had slowed down and she could talk. “What you did, going Beyond the Wall, I understood it was the only option, but you should have called more men up from Winterfell, a moon wouldn’t have delayed the success of the diplomatic mission. You can’t risk your life like this.”

“This can’t be what’s gotten you so upset, not after all this time.”

“Robb, your brother _died_! Promise me you will be extra careful. Please.” She pulled away from the hug to look into his eyes. “Promise me you will be careful.”

“I promise,” Robb said, though he was at a loss for what to do. “But Ella, please, tell me what is happening.”

She bit her lip for a moment, pondering her choices, wondering how much madder Ned would be. But then she figured secrets never solved anything. And Robb, as Acting Lord of Winterfell once they returned to the capital, should be aware of this.

“You know that your father and I met in Harrenhall?” she asked and Robb frowned but nodded. “Well, at the time your uncle Brandon was alive and he was your mother’s betrothed. Ned had no one promised to him. We were… we were silly young people and I got pregnant.”

Robb gasped. “But… but wait… Jon is younger than me. By a few months, but younger. And Harrenhall happened several months, nearly a year before my parents married. And you said… you said you weren’t his mother!”

“I'm not, love, I'm not. Your sister… she was born very weak, she didn’t live for more than a few days.”

“I had an older sister?”

“You did, love.” She grimaced. “I thought it was grief because your father’s letters were so insufficient, so cold, because he wasn’t coming. Because of all the turmoil that was happening at the time. I had always been so healthy and strong… and today we found out she was never weak. She was strong as a wolf, rather, holding on as long as she did.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me that…”

“I was being poisoned, Robb,” she said. He froze for a moment, letting the words sink. Then she saw the deep anguish on his face. “Your mother had nothing to do with this, love. I doubt she even knew — about the pregnancy or about the poisoning.” There was deep relief on his face. “But I need you to understand that your father first learnt the pain of losing a child before he ever got to hold you. Even worse, because when he discovered Lyarra even existed, she was already dead and buried. And then… Robb, you were there, you saw his reaction when Jon… when it happened. Would you like to be the one to make him feel like that out of carelessness?”

“No! No, never!”

“Then be careful. Please.”

“I will. I promise, Ella.”

She smiled a bit. “I am not aiming to take Catelyn’s place, Robb, but don’t put _me_ through that either. You might not be my blood, but you are in my heart as well.” He was the one who reached to hug her this time and they were silent for long moments.

“Now, tell me,” Robb started, “who poisoned my sister? Who will find himself on the bad side of Ice?”

She chuckled then. “Well, between the two of us, I think that… _monster_ will be skewered by Ice and Dawn.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Addam took a last deep breath, adjusting his grip on the torch, before going down the steps. He had been putting it off for days now, but finally decided to be brave. His footsteps echoed in the cavernous corridors as he followed the directions from Benjen. There was light down the corridor he wanted and he chuckled when he got close enough to recognise who was there.

“This is not very subtle, you know,” Addam said. “Jon is not dumb and he already knows there’s something wrong with the Rebellion. If he sees you here… or perhaps you should let him see you down here.”

 “It is not our secret to tell and you know that.” Ayla only rolled her eyes. “I hadn’t had the time to fetch new flowers from the glasshouse before.”

He smiled seeing the winter roses she had laid down by the statue’s feet. “She would have loved it. She shouldn’t be in the ground, but she should—”

“You cannot keep feeling guilty over this, Ser Addam. It was not your fault. She was owed the truth, as Regent and as your superior, and you did it as delicately as possible.”

“But I should have…”

“Has anyone ever told you that, in the years since that day, I spent some time as a midwife?” she asked, shocking him. “I didn’t know what to do then, but now I do. There is nothing about that day that I forgot. The fall might have hurried things along, but it was never going to end well. The little lord was turned the wrong way. We were always going to have to choose between one of them.”

“Right.” He snorted. “She would take a knife and cut herself open if you didn’t choose him.”

“Well, she did,” Ayla said and Addam turned to look at her. “The other girl and I… we didn’t know very well what to do, so we were hesitant, so she took that dagger she had and was going to do it. I knew she was not jesting, so I took the knife and I made the cut. The little lord came out safe and sound, but then… there was too much blood, everywhere. It wasn’t just from the cut, it was from inside her womb, something had burst open in there, so we couldn’t stop the bleeding. The fall might have helped in the end, or the little lord would have drowned in her blood inside her.”

“That tower was marked for tragedy,” Addam said, turning back to Lyanna’s stony face. It wasn’t a very good one. It did little justice to her beauty.

“Possibly,” Ayla said, remembering her own tragedy. Then she bent over and took one single blue rose, giving it to him. “But she would tell us to not let things beyond our control command us. And so we mustn’t. We honour her by protecting her son.”

Addam smiled weakly as she left. He stood there for a long time, thinking on how she would have loved her son, how proud she would be of him. And her grandchildren… oh, the mischief she and Little Lya would get to!

“Addam?” Jon called, coming closer as well. “Oh!” He realised whose statue they stood upon. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I didn’t even know you were here. I'm sorry I’ll leave you.”

“No, it fine,” the knight said. “I have paid my respects. You… you visit her? Often?”

“I ah… not often. But I just… I felt the urge to come down. I didn’t even realise I was coming to her until I saw you.” He looked at the statue. “I wish I would have known her.”

Addam smiled. “I wish so too. You would have loved her and she would have loved you. Very much.”

Jon frowned. “Father said the same. The day we were leaving, I came to get him and he was here, saying his goodbyes. He said she would have loved me.”

“It was very hard to _not_ love her. And, good Stark that she was, she was a fierce protector of the pack. She would have loved you to pieces.”

“I wish she were here,” Jon said.

“So do I. The world would be a better and brighter place. But I will leave her in better company now. Ghost,” Addam petted his head, “make sure he doesn’t get lost, would you.”

Jon only chuckled. Addam set the winter rose he held in the statue’s hand and, as he left, Jon was reminded of the feeling that took him over on the day he left Winterfell over three years ago: the impression that Lyanna was offering him the flower in her hand. Why had he felt so drawn to this flower, the flower that was his aunt’s favourite? He remembered then his last conversation with Maester Aemon, their last sunset in Castle Black.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Jon looked once again at the snow-covered forest twinkling in the fading light of sunset._

_“But… I know my father is no liar. If he says Prince Rhaegar didn’t take Aunt Lyanna, then he didn’t. So the logical explanation is that they ran away together. After meeting Robert Baratheon, I can't blame Aunt Lyanna for not wanting to marry him, but… she had a duty. And so did Rhaegar. He was the Prince of Dragonstone, he had a wife and children!”_

_Maester Aemon smiled sadly. ‘ **Oh, Jon if only you knew he truth!** ’, he thought. “There is one thing that you are perhaps too young to realise, Jon,” the old man said. “Love is the bane of honour, the death of duty. What is honour compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms… or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.”_

_“So he did it because he loved her?” Jon asked flabbergasted._

_He understood love just fine. Violet eyes sparkling with joy, plump red lips smiling at him, flushed cheeks filled with joy; heavy breathing in their dark bedchamber, faintly lit up with light from the fire. If that were the only point… he could understand Maester Aemon’s words. But there were also the children. He also remembered just fine marauder lilac eyes framed by dark brown curls like his, running around the place, throwing herself in his arms with a delightful cry of ‘Papa!’. His small son kicking in his cradle, wrapping his tiny fingers around his father’s and refusing to let go. If he didn’t love Daenerys — a possibility Jon found hard to even entertain — perhaps he could leave her. But he would never be able to leave Lyanna and Little Addam behind._

_“If what you say is true, Maester,” Jon said, “and I can see truth in it, then I understand, I can see Prince Rhaegar leaving his duty to his wife behind in the name of the love he felt for my aunt. But I cannot understand him abandoning his children. That is just… it is unfathomable to me. Children are our greatest blessing.”_

_“Perhaps he didn’t think it as abandoning them rather than going on a trip before returning to them,” the Maester said. He didn’t like the tone or the resentment Jon seemed to be feeling towards Rhaegar. “You left your children in your castle. Does that mean you have abandoned them?”_

_“Most certainly not,” Jon said incisively._

_“Only Rhaegar can speak for his reasons, Jon, and no one else. And as terrible or as great as they were, I think it is safe to say that he loved his Lady Lyanna. More than it was sensible, certainly more than he should, and that was his doom. But for as much as you love your Lady Daenerys, can you blame him?”_

_Patting Jon’s forearm in farewell, the Maester made the way back to the elevator. Jon remained at the top of the world, watching darkness swallow all the warmth of light below._

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“Was that what happened?” Jon asked the statue, coming back to the present time, though he knew he would have no reply. “Did he leave his wife, but not his children? Would you have loved them as your own rather than belittled them for not being yours?” Then he snorted. “Look at me, talking to a statue. I guess you never had the time.”

He turned to leave, but then a question arose: _how_ had Lyanna Stark died? Because if she and Rhaegar loved each other, then he hadn’t killed her. And if Addam had told her of the Prince’s death, it was because she had outlived him. But what had happened?

He knew Addam wouldn’t tell him, not when his standard response to anything related to that was: “that is a question for your father”. But could he ask that? When Father shirked any questions on the matter? When he turned introspective and skirted any questions about his sister? Would perhaps Uncle Benjen answer? The humidity from the crypts made a droplet roll down the statue’s face as if Lyanna were crying and Jon shivered. That seemed too real.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Benjen rushed down the corridor to his brother’s solar. Maester Luwin had just found him in the training yard and said he should go to there, that Lord Stark would need a friendly shoulder, though he should beware that the man had thrown the maester, Jory, and even Ella out of the room. He was unwilling to disclose much on the subject, but when asked how bad it was, he had simply said: “bad enough that heads will certainly roll”.

“Ned!” Benjen called as he knocked.

“He sent us all out and asked not to be disturbed, my lord,” Jory said. “And if I might be so bold, I don’t blame him.”

“Seven Hells!” he muttered. “Ned, stop being stubborn and open this door!” he yelled but there was no response from within. “Very well, I know Ella won't tell me anything so I’ll have no choice but to knock down the door!”

“Go away, little brother!” came the weak and muffled response from inside.

“Fat chance of that! Open up or I am serious, I’ll knock it down!”

Silver came down the corridor then and sat next to Benjen, who smiled: the direwolf had a key between his teeth. Likely he had left the room through the other door and came to deliver. So the man took the key and opened the door, stopping short. He knew Ned had some violent tendencies when he was angry, hence the many straw dummies he had destroyed over the years with a training sword, but he had never destroyed anything other than the dummies. Certainly not knocked over every single piece of furniture in his solar.

“That was stupid of me,” Ned said in a dejected voice. “I shouldn’t have torn down the place.”

He was the image of despair when Benjen finally saw him. His jerkin was torn open, his hair on disarray, pulled from the knot that usually held it, and his face was awash in tears as he rested against on the floor against cabinet.

“Big brother, what happened?

“They killed her, Ben,” Ned answered, fresh tears rolling down his face. “My baby girl, mine and Ashara’s. She wasn’t weak, she was poisoned. They killed her!”

Benjen knelt on the floor in front of him. “I'm sorry, Ned. Who did it? Who would do something so odious? And whatever for?”

“Citadel. It is a conspiracy, Ben. They killed her because the Daynes are Targaryen supporters and they wanted them away from the war. They had Lyanna and Robert betrothed to rise in rebellion from the start. And so Daynes and Starks had to be enemies. My child with Ashara was ‘an inconvenience’, so they killed her.”

“Fine. Alright. It’s even worse than someone wanting to get back at you. This has no reason other than petty cruelty. Give me a hundred men and I will go right now to Oldtown and set those bastards alight. Well, or I’ll just behead them, one by one. The books are blameless.”

Ned laughed amidst his tears. “I don’t know how to handle this, Ben. This… this _thing_ hurting inside. I can only handle simple things: see enemy, kill enemy. This… this hurts!”

“That thing is your _heart_ and, in this case, it should hurt. But hey, look at me. There is one good thing about this.”

“How can there ever be something good about maesters conspiring against House Targaryen and murdering my daughter for it?”

“Since you found out Lyarra existed, you have blamed yourself — because that is what you do. You thought the gods had taken her from you because you had turned your back on your sister, because you had married a woman promised to your brother. None of that is, or ever was, true. A band of crazy, cruel men murdered her out of hatred. So get up, wash your face, and let’s find some knowledgeable stupid people to bring to justice. Besides, I don’t know if it has occurred to you, but while you have been here destroying perfectly good furniture and sitting down feeling sorry for yourself, there is someone else who is feeling just as miserable as you are. The woman who carried that little girl, suffered the hells to bring her into this world, held and fed and loved her only to have her die in her arms days later. So if you want to wallow in pity, don’t wallow in _self_ -pity. At least go be with your wife.”

“Thanks, little brother,” Ned said after a moment, rubbing his eyes clean. “That was a well-given kick to the arse.”

“Awesome, up we go,” Benjen said, pulling him up. “You can go to Ella and I will call the maids.”

“Thanks, Ben.”

“That’s what brothers are for. Now shoo!”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my way of staying sane this past week, though as exams begin on Friday expect nothing next week and I'll see if I can breathe long enough to update. But safer assumption is the week after.
> 
> As always, I'm always here to read you comments :


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The contents of Maester Walys' journal reach Starfall while Winterfell has to deal with their own problems.

Edric petted Dawn’s head, thinking over the words she had just brought. In these moments, he could only be thankful that his family had insisted so hard in keeping the messenger-hawks a secret, otherwise Maester Corlys might have read the raven and then all would be lost.

“My lord? You asked for me?” the traitor in question came.

“I did, Maester. Please, do sit down.” If the man thought the four guards around the Lord’s desk was strange, he did not comment. “Maester Corlys, you have been in our service for over twenty years, have you not?”

“Twenty-six years now, my lord,” he answered, frowning.

“Twenty-six years. Twenty-six years in which House Dayne entrusted you with a lot, but especially our health and care.”

“My lord, what is this about?”

“It is about my deep disappointment. I had you as a second father, Maester. My own lord father trusted you to guide and teach and counsel me after he died and now I receive word that you have committed the highest act of treason against our House.”

“My lord!” the maester exclaimed. “This is an outrage! I am a loyal servant! And—”

“Aye, Maester, a loyal servant indeed,” Edric agreed. “Except we were blinded to the fact that your loyalty lies with the Citadel.”

“My lord, with all due respect, but I demand to face my accuser!”

“It is your right and if you so demand I shall arrange for our departure. But I shall tell you the charge beforehand.”

“I should be grateful to hear what non-sense I am being accused of!”

“It so seems that a trunk of Winterfell’s former maester, a Maester Walys, was unearthed and with it his personal journal,” Edric said and Maester Corlys stiffened. “I don’t know the particulars, but I know that the journal ended up in Lord Stark’s hands. Do you imagine what it said?”

“I ah… I have no idea, my lord. I never personally met Maester Walys, not to my knowledge, and if I did it was merely in passing…”

“Well, I neither know nor care if you were sparring mates or complete strangers. But you know what he wrote that would have Lord Eddard Stark writing me a letter demanding your head in a spike, don’t you?”

Corlys went pale. “My lord, to… to even hear such accusations… a maester long dead and suddenly his journal is unearthed… you don’t even… you can't mean…”

“Lord Stark transcribed a section of the journal. I shall read it out loud,” Edric said, opening the letter. “‘It seems Lady Ashara of House Dayne was successful in charming Lord Eddard’ — that is my aunt, I am sure you remember. ‘(…) Lord Eddard, like Lord Brandon, has started to spread his bastards around the realm. Well, fortunately, we are well versed in handling this issue’. Do you have a comment to add so far, Maester Corlys?” Edric asked, but the man shook his head, only growing paler still. “Very well, now this is the most interesting part: ‘The maester in Starfall has misplaced the letter to Lord Eddard, so he knows nothing of the pregnancy and still believes he can wait for his lord brother’s marriage before asking his lord father leave to marry Lady Ashara. And it is very good that Dorne has an abundance of the materials for the necessary potion. If the bastard is strong enough to even be born, it will not live long. After all, we cannot allow for any Targaryen sympathisers. It’s enough that the Queen of Thorns meddled, so we were unable to prevent the Tyrell whelps. And besides, the tragedy of a stillborn — if anyone can mourn a bastard at all — will destabilise House Dayne, perhaps even keep it away from our war. Although it is regrettable that the Sword of the Morning won’t be kept away, not when he is a Kingsguard. Anyway, it should at least have the Daynes at odds with Lord Eddard, since it will seem that he will not care for the bastard’. Now, Maester, do you have anything to say?”

“My lord, to believe that…”

“I believe what I know, Maester. That my aunt was a lively, strong, and healthy woman,” he said. _Besides, we already have proof that she and Lord Stark are capable of having a healthy child together_ , he thought but didn’t voice. “But then she got pregnant and suddenly she was sickly and weak. Her daughter was born sickly and weak and died not a moon after. And then what happened, I ask you?”

“My lord…”

“I asked you a question! What happened to my aunt Ashara?”

“She was overtaken by sadness,” the maester replied with a wavering voice. “She couldn’t overcome the loss of her daughter.”

“And then? Tell me, Maester, what did your meddling cause?”

“Lady Ashara jumped from the Palestone Sword. Her body was never found.”

“I grew up hearing that story,” Edric said. “And when we met in King's Landing, Lord Stark said there was nothing he regretted more than not discovering my lady aunt’s pregnancy early enough to rush to Dorne and marry her before the girl was born. That perhaps he would have saved one, if not them both. An innocent girl, Maester, guilty of nothing but being an inconvenience to you and your co-conspirators.”

“My lord there is no conspiracy…”

“Do not lie to me!” Edric yelled. “They have proof! This was but a section, the proof Lord Stark had to ask for your head! Justice, because he discovered his daughter was not sick, she was murdered before he ever met her! And if there is no conspiracy, so much the worst, for you have acted by yourself to destroy my House and my family in the lowest form when we trusted you blindly! Now, Maester Corlys, I will ask this once and I hope to see a shred of honour left in you: did you poison my aunt, the Lady Ashara, making her daughter weak and sick?”

“My lord, I am devoted…”

“Maester, I won't ask again. Answer the question.”

“Lord Edric, I raised you, I took you from your mother’s womb and raised you to the best of my ability…”

“Your words speak by themselves, Maester. Lord Stark would have no reason to fabricate this lie and so I take his word as true. Also, you deflected my question. I held you in the highest esteem, Maester, and you betrayed me.” Edric took a deep breath, reigning in his anger. “I, Lord Edric of House Dayne, Lord of Starfall, find you, Maester Corlys of the Citadel, guilty of murder and high treason against our House and House Stark. And though it gives me no joy, only sadness, I sentence you to death. Guards, take him to a cell and have a gallows built.”

“But my lord!” the disgraced man protested.

“Take him! Now!”

The guards hesitated for a moment, unwilling to believe the order, and that was enough time for the maester to turn and run away.

“Find him!” Edric bit through his teeth. “And throw his sorry carcass in the coldest and dankest cell in the dungeons!”

The men nodded and went in pursuit of the prisoner. Maester Corlys ran faster than he ever had. He was old, but there was enough energy coursing through his veins now. He ran and ran and ran until his heart was beating too fast, his lungs couldn’t draw enough breath, and his legs begun to fail him. And then he started to laugh hysterically once he noticed where he was: the Palestone Sword, in the very same room where he himself had found Lady Ashara’s shoe, the sad evidence of her tragic end. He heard the guards thundering into the room.

“Maester, you need to come with us.”

“Why, Captain? So you can have me locked up and killed in the morning?”

“Maester, please. There is no escape from this. You know that as angry and betrayed as he is feeling, Lord Dayne won't be cruel.”

“I dedicated twenty-six years of my life to this House! To this castle! And this is how they repay me! Because I got rid of an insignificant bastard in name of the greater good! Because his aunt was a weak-minded woman who decided to kill herself over nothing!”

“Maester, please!”

“No. No, no, no. If I must die, I won't let a child dictate when.”

And before any of the guards could do anything, Maester Corlys threw himself over the window and into the water bellow, just like the realm believed Lady Ashara Dayne had.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Oberyn arrived in Starfall to a whole mess happening. He was on his way to Oldtown, but had decided to stop by to visit Edric and an old childhood playground. Nosy that he was, he made his way to the source of the commotion.

“What’s happening here?” he demanded as he came inside the top room in the Palestone Sword. Edric was staring at a worn sandal in his hand, the picture of shock.

“The Maester jumped,” the Captain of the Guard said.

“Why?”

“He poisoned Aunt Ashara,” Edric replied slowly, as if trying to grasp grand concepts. “I had sentenced him to death.”

Oberyn blinked. Then he turned to the Captain. “Kill the story. Tell everyone the maester is sick and confined to his chambers. He can succumb to his illness in a few days.”

“We can’t lie!” Edric said.

“Alright, Uncle Artie’s nephew, go tell them the maester you are accusing of killing Auntie Ashara just jumped from the same tower she did. I believe you, but I can bet people won’t. You’ve got a fucking mess in your hands, all you can do is clean it up as best you can. Kill the story.”

Edric was lost for a moment, looking from the shoe in his hand to the window and then to Oberyn.

“You heard our Prince,” he finally said. “Kill the story.”

Oberyn passed an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” They went all the way back to the Lord’s solar, where Oberyn served them each a healthy cup of wine. “Want to tell me the story from the beginning?”

“I… _she_ wrote. You can read her letter, I think it’s better.”

Oberyn frowned but picked up the indicated piece of parchment, reading it quickly. He was so shocked he went silent for a long while — a rare feat. Then he put down the letter and begun to pace from one side to the other of the room.

“Alright. Fine. What a fucking mess. But alright, let’s try and improve it. First thing: what we’ll do is send a raven to her and—”

“We no longer have a maester to handle the rookery,” Edric said, snorting to hide his anxiety.

“Fucking Corlys!” Oberyn cursed. “Alright, I can handle the rookery while we find someone who is quick enough to grasp the duties. We’re sending her a letter, telling her the fucking traitor is swimming in the ocean — dark irony that it is — and that I am here to help settle things. Then a raven to Arianne to let her know she’ll have to handle Sunspear without me for a while longer — and I'm sure she will _hate_ that.” He rolled his eyes as his voice dripped sarcasm. “Then we get our story straight on how, why, and when Corlys died. And then I organise my list and go to the Citadel.”

“That is the worst idea! You can't confront them like that!”

The Prince laughed. “I know I’m impulsive, Edric, but I'm not _that_ impulsive. Or stupid. Telling the Citadel we know of their conspiracy will only give them time to destroy any records. The Seneschal screwed up when he chose the Winterfell successor: not only did he not participate in their scheme, he neither cared to send the old man’s journals to be stored safely nor cared to protect the secret, rather he exposed the plot. This is the advantage we have got for now and we need to keep it.” Oberyn stopped and thought for a moment. “The first step is to distinguish friend from foe. We need to know what maesters are in this conspiracy, more than that, we need to know which ones already took actions like Corlys’. Pycelle, obviously, and we need to check if the one in Highgarden is still the same. Oh, and check the one in the Midnight Fortress, that one is the most dangerous, being so close to the last Targaryen and her babies.”

“Lady Starling nearly died when Little Addam was born. It was the maester who saved her, when no one would have found suspicious if she died. She took a knife to the chest while pregnant. Stronger men have died from less serious injuries.”

“Good point,” Oberyn said, “but honestly, at this moment I believe anything. Come on, we’ve got letters to write!”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Still tired from the long night of celebrations, the feast in honour of his name day, Benjen sat in a jump, disoriented: it was the middle of the night, but Midnight had just jumped on the bed with them — and there was something shocking in waking up with a full-grown adult direwolf jumping atop you.

“What is happening?” Ayla asked, also jarred form sleep.

“Come on, boy, it’s night-time, humans sleep at night,” Benjen tried to nudge the direwolf back to the floor, but he wouldn’t budge, rather he poked the woman with his snout, trying to get her up from the bed.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Ayla said, realising the wolf had a reason. She pulled her robe and slippers on and started to follow Midnight out of the bedchamber.

“Wait, really?” Benjen asked from the bed, his wine-addled, sleepy brain taking a moment to process what was happening.

“Oh, please, do you still think they are not warning us when they do these things?” she asked rhetorically, continuing on her way out of the room.

It didn’t take more than a moment for Benjen to reach her, though, pulling his robe straight on. Ayla frowned, her heart squeezing when she recognised the way to the nursery. Cold sunk onto her stomach when they reached it and found Ella and Silver also arriving there.

“What is happening?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Silver just pushed me out of bed,” Ella said.

“Where is my brother?” Benjen asked, stiffening in worry.

“Hadn’t come to bed yet.” Ella tried the door: it was locked. The two direwolves began growling when the three babies inside began to cry as the lock rattled loudly.

“What is going on?” Dany asked, also coming to the door, Ghost leading the way and Jon and Addam right behind.

“Door is locked,” Ella said. “Big brother…”

“Back off,” he said and the women backed away.

The door was thick and big, so Addam, Benjen, and Jon pooled their strength to kick it down, by which time Grey Wind was leading Ned to them. The door opened, but only an inch, being held by something heavy behind it. However, the babies crying became louder now that it was no longer muffled through the door.

“Jory, need some help here,” Addam said as Benjen went to work on the hinges.

“I’ll do it,” Ned said, throwing his cloak to the side and joining the men trying to pry the door open. “Jory, get more men and go through the servants’ passages, have the Guard on alert, whoever did this is not inside the room.”

“How do you know they are not still inside?” Dany asked.

“Wouldn’t have bothered to stay and get caught,” Ned answered through his teeth as he, Jon, and Addam forced their weight against the door while Benjen hammered on the hinges. It opened a few more inches.

“I can—” Jon started.

“You can stay put,” Ayla said. “You promised me.”

“And there will be no argument on the matter,” Ella added, poorly hiding her concern. “That’s why you have guards.”

“I can slide in, my lord,” Wex said, starting to take his armour off. “I can pull whatever it is away and open the door.”

“Great,” Jon said, anxious. They heard Lyanna complaining loudly in the room next doors, her nurse trying to soothe her. “Ghost, to her,” Jon commanded, opening the door, and the direwolf went in with a couple guards. Dany poked her head inside, making sure her daughter was well before coming back to the door that separated them from their sons.

Wex finished taking off his armour and, unhindered by its volume, forced his way through the small opening. “It’s a wardrobe,” he said. “It’ll be too heavy to push all the way.”

“Can you jump over it?” Addam asked.

“Aye,” Wex said. “Just need a boost.” With help, the guard managed to grab the top of the wardrobe and hoist himself to the top, jumping to the other side. “Room is empty!” he called out loud so they could hear it on the corridor. “There’s two nurses here, one of them is dead, the other is just out cold. Boys are fine, just startled. I’ll pull the wardrobe away.” There was some noise behind the tapestry. “Jory is here with more men,” Wex said. “I’ll let them in so they can help push it aside.

The servants’ door had been barred with a thick metal bar, but easy enough to open. Once inside, it took five guards to push the solid piece of furniture far enough away that the door burst open. Dany, Ella, and Ayla rushed to the cradles, each taking their own son and trying to soothe them. Hallis pointed to some rope tied to the wall next to the window.

“That is how they locked both doors and still left the room,” he said.

“Didn’t work very well,” Jory said, looking down to the dark courtyard beneath them. “There’s a body on the ground.”

“Go find it,” Ned said with an ice-cold voice. “If it’s still breathing, ask Maester Luwin to make sure it breathes long enough to tell me who sent it here before I have its head decorating a spike on my gates.” Jory nodded and rushed out.

“What is happening?” Robb asked from the door. “Wait, someone was here? Attacking the boys?”

“There is more to this,” Addam said, looking around the room. “It took five guards to push the wardrobe away, which means that if they wanted to get out fast, it took at least as many men to push it there. They attacked the nurses, so that means they had a plan. Poisoning the boys would be quick and they could run out of here. So why did they bar both doors and escape through the windows? What did they do to the boys?”

Ayla froze by Little Addam’s cradle after having looked at Rickard’s. “Dany, check for a rash on the side of his face,” she said, her voice wavering.

“It is a little red,” Dany said.

“What is happening to my son?” Jon asked with a hard voice, his dark grey eyes stormy.

“You were such a quiet baby,” Ayla said, her voice weak. “You didn’t use to cry. When you were hungry you would make some noise, complain a little, but never cry loudly.  Not even when Robb was yelling from the top of his lungs. Then one day you were screaming louder than I ever heard any baby scream. It wasn’t hunger, nor your diaper, but then I noticed a rash on your face. It was bright red already, and I thought it strange because I had put you down for a nap not two hours before and you were fine. Then I found one just like this.” She held out a little pouch. “I was so startled I threw it away and went to wash your face. Your screaming had woken Robb and his own nurse came to see what was wrong, but there was nothing in his cradle. By the time I had you dressed in new clothes, the pouch had disappeared. Lady Catelyn said I had imagined it, that I was only causing trouble, but I know what I saw. I took to checking every day from then on, but I never saw another one until now.”

“Ned,” Ella called, holding out another pouch she had taken from Cregan’s cradle.

Addam took both pouches in his gloved hand. “If the boys’ face is any indication, this causes hives upon contact so no touching it bare handed.” He sniffed them.

“It’s baby’s breath, isn’t it?” Ella asked.

“Smells a bit like it,” Addam said. “Makes sense because it only causes a rash when it’s been dried.” He opened one of them and reached inside, exposing the small flowers from within. “Powerful mix.” He looked to his sister.

“That’s leadwort,” Ella stated.

“And it’s fresh,” Addam touched the petals. “Just been plucked.”

“Dried baby’s breath could have come from anywhere,” Ella said. “But not fresh leadwort. It only grows in the south, it wouldn’t survive in this climate. Someone brought a seedling here just for this.”

“People can find seedlings of everything everywhere if they want to, little sister. There’s always someone growing something odd on their garden for some reason. But there has to be something else in the mix, otherwise it makes no sense for such an elaborate scheme only to give them rashes. Both baby’s breath and leadwort would stop working once we noticed and took it away from the boys.”

“There’s only two pouches,” Benjen said. He had just torn apart his son’s cradle, looking through the linens.

“Whatever else there is in these,” Addam closed the pouch, “it has to have effect over time. Otherwise it makes no sense to have locked the doors.”

“They did it in the middle of the night because it would take us longer to come and check on them,” Ayla said.

“And they only begun to cry when we started trying to get the door opened,” Dany added. “What means that the pouches hadn’t been in their cradles for long because it hadn’t started to bother them too much yet.”

“Maester Luwin will try and find out once he is done with the injured,” Ned said. “Hallis, tell the maids to come and strip the cradles, I want these linens burnt tonight. In the morning I want fresh linens checked before they are laid out. And I want you to redouble the guard, especially around the laundry and the kitchens — it might be their next target.” The guard nodded and left. “This is the second murder attempt of one of my sons and my grandson in less than a year. The second time assassins break through my own home. Whoever did this, it will be the last stupidity they have ever done!”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned walked to Maester Luwin’s tower apprehensively. It had been a full week since the nursery was attacked and the maester had sent for his lord, saying he had found the purpose behind the pouch, but that it would be better if seen in his laboratory.

“Maester? You asked to see me?” Ned called from the door.

“Yes, yes, come in, my lord,” Luwin led the way to a table in the back of the room where there were three tanks, each with one mouse inside. “I did some experimenting. Addam was good enough to find me some dried baby’s breath and of course Jory located the sellsword’s room and the fresh leadwort. Lady Stark was correct, their mix would only cause a rash that would heal fast enough once they were taken away.” The Maester pointed to the first mouse, who had a red rash but seemed well. “However, if the mouse wasn’t stopped, he would scratch as much as to draw blood.” The Maester pointed to the second mouse, who had a sore, bleeding spot, but also seemed fine. “With this third mouse, I put a portion of the pouches found in the cradles.”

Ned felt his blood pump loudly, his heart squeeze painfully: the mouse had scratched itself bloody but it was now immovable, staring emptily across the tank.

“Is it dead?”

“Yes, my lord,” Maester Luwin said. “I haven’t been able to discover what was used yet, but something was certainly mixed into the pouch. The dried baby’s breath and leadwort would cause enough irritation that the mouse scratched a hole on its face, thus exposing his blood. Whatever is in the pouch, once in contact with the blood, travelled through the mouse’s body and gave it breathing problems. The mouse struggled, but finally its lungs failed. The whole process lasted about six hours,” he pointed to the hourglasses on another table, “so that would be the duration of the night. By the time the ladies woke up and went to check on the nursery…”

“Aye, thank you, Maester,” Ned said, unable to help the piecing pain at the thought. “Thank you for this discovery, though I would also be very thankful if you were able to identify the poison.”

“I am working on it, my lord.”

Ned nodded and left the room, his thoughts in a whirlwind. The man who had fallen out the window during the escape had already been dead when the guards got to him, but the items found in the body were able to lead to the inn where the rest of the group was staying in Wintertown. The innkeeper had cooperated immediately and the guards had arrested the six other men in the group, who had been promptly tried and were now decorating the spikes on the gates.

Ned decided to go to his chambers to check on Ella and tell her the news. She had been very distressed, obviously, and had barely let Cregan out of her sight, getting Arya and Bran annoyed with her insistence at having at least one guard shadowing all of them at all times — Rickon thought it was extra company and Robb was used to it, so they didn’t complain, and Sansa wouldn’t question a decision.

Ned hated to bother his wife, but he knew she would hate to be kept in the dark. Besides, if someone could help Maester Luwin in his search for poisons that caused breathing problems, she and Addam could, what with their Dornish education in poisons. He walked into his chambers to find his youngest crawling around the room with Rickard as their mothers gossiped in a corner.

“I’ll watch over him for now, don’t you worry,” Ayla said with a smile. Then she took both boys and left the room.

“Is something the matter?” Ella asked lighter than he had seen her in days.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” Ned said with a smile in his face. Seeing Ella smile seemed to lift a weight he didn’t now he had been carrying around. “What is it that’s got you so happy?”

“Ayla gave me some good news after these weeks of terror,” she said.

“Ayla gave you news? What news? What are you two…” he trailed off, afraid to hope, but the smile on her face was so bright and light and joyful. “You… Ella…”

“I am with child, Ned!”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!
> 
> Very busy week, but I managed to finish the chapter. However, I didn't have the time to answer every comment, which I will do hopefully towards the end of the week!
> 
> As always kudos are appreciated and I would love to hear your thoughts in comment form :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Citadel falls under discreet investigation, it is time to leave Winterfell and Jon and Ned have a sincere conversation about events far into the past.

Margaery knocked on her grandmother’s door, being admitted quickly. She and Garlan had arrived earlier in the day, finally, and she was happy to be warm again. Thankfully, Robb said Winterfell didn’t get as cold as the Wall and that the castle was quite warm.

“So,” Olenna asked once they had hugged. “How was it?”

“The marriage is secured, Grandmother. And I managed to impress on him the need to share everything with me. He said he loves me.”

The Queen of Thorns narrowed her eyes. “Well, that is good. Very good, I think, since you fell in love with him as well.”

“Grandmother…”

“Don’t, my dear, don’t bother. I'm old enough to know what I see. You fell in love with the boy, which is good since you will have to spend the rest of your days with him. Just make sure it doesn’t blind you.”

“It won't, Grandmother. I promise.”

“Good. What about the others?”

“So many things happened, Grandmother. But the most unbelievable of all… well, there are two unbelievable things. First, White Walkers are real.”

“Don’t be silly Margaery!” Olenna laughed. “White Walkers are a nursery story!”

“No, Grandmother, they are very real. Robb saw them, he _fought_ them.”

“It was bragging. It has to be, my love.”

“Well, it was convincing enough that it got Lord Stark and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch to let the wildlings south of the Wall.”

Olenna blanched. “That is indeed unbelievable. And a problem no one ever anticipated. Lord Stark will have to have hard proof if he intends to rally the Kingdoms against these… these fairy-tale monsters.”

“I’m certain Lord Stark has a plan,” Margaery said diplomatically. “I saw a wight, one of their foot soldiers.” She shivered. “It was dead already, but trust me, we do not want it crossing south.”

“And the second unbelievable thing?” Olenna asked.

“Oh, that,” Margaery bit back a smile, anticipating her grandmother’s reaction. “Lord Starling was stabbed through the heart.”

“WHAT?”

“Oh, do not worry, Grandmother, he is well.”

“Well? How! How can he be well?!”

“Actually, he was only dead for a bit over a day.” Margaery was having a hard time hiding her amusement now. Olenna hit the table.

“Stop with the suspense and tell me already! What magic did they conjure?”

Chuckling, Margaery begun the story. By the end, Olenna was even more certain that the alliance with House Stark had been the best idea they could have had.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Maester Marwyn sat on his desk, contemplating the words he had just read. The day was warm, though the weather was visibly cooling even in the south. The Northern messenger had delivered it into his hands only in his private solar, saying Maester Luwin had recommended discretion. He remembered Luwin, one of the few who had forged a Valyrian steel link, who had studied the higher mysteries. Marwyn was not stupid — he had known since the beginning, when he first begun forging his own dragonsteel link, when he was but a silly boy, that the Order of Maester hated magic. He knew his appointment to Archmaester was because the rules of the own Citadel dictated there should be one archmaester for each area of study. And after the third “coincidence”, he had realised the Seneschal was appointing his students to serve castles, the young men who started to forge their Valyrian steel links and would therefore be unable to complete their links or even continue their studies in this area. But to imagine a conspiracy of this magnitude…

The letter from Winterfell had come with the copy of a passage from late Maester Walys’ journal. He rubbed his temple. Lord Stark would be well within his reason to call for a war against the Citadel. But by the way Luwin had requested discretion, Marwyn imagined that wasn’t what the Hand of the King wanted.

But then again, the ease with which the journal had been discovered… the carelessness… he needed to investigate. He needed to check the facts. As careless and conceited as his colleagues were, he doubted there was a list of conspirators. Or that said list, if existed, would be easily attainable or easily able to be read. So perhaps if he could luck out like Luwin did…

He rung the little bell, calling for the acolyte in the next room. The boy came quickly.

“Alleras, I have a problem in my hands. One I need solved. I know you only just started your studies in the higher mysteries, but I need to know if I can trust you. If you will help me in this venture.”

“Of course, Archmaester,” the boy answered.

“Good. The beginning should be very boring, very boring indeed, but if I am right… oh, if I am right, the payoff should change the world as we see it.”

“What do you need me to do, Archmaester?”

“I will go to the Seneschal and say I am giving you an ungrateful task — it’s not unusual when an acolyte has misbehaved or experimented just a bit too much over the line that we punish him by having him make copies. Boring stuff, but thought of as sufficient punishment. Then I shall grab the things I want to read — though I cannot have anyone _knowing_ I am reading them — and while you copy I will read and see if I can prove or disprove something.”

Alleras thought it was very boring indeed, but decided against voicing it. From the gossip around the realm, the dragon eggs Daenerys Targaryen had, the volcano erupting for the second time in so many months... it would soon be very interesting to have a Valyrian steel link in a maester’s chain, and only Archmaester Marwyn could grant that.

“Of course, Archmaester. Whatever you need.”

“Good, good,” the older man said, standing up. “Let’s get started then!”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Oberyn drummed his fingers on the table, waiting impatiently. He had stayed in Starfall long enough to help Edric deal with the backlash of Maester Corlys’ betrayal and death. But it had been easy — although young, Lord Dayne was smart and intelligent and once the shock had worn off, he had taken the reins of the situation quite nicely. The Prince still thought he was too honourable and correct for the madness of the politics he had to deal with, but that would come with age and practice. After all, even Arthur, from the height of his honour, had accepted to participate in the deception of his death.

“Father,” Sarella finally came, sitting across from him. “You know we shouldn’t be meeting.”

“I do,” he agreed. “But it’s important. I missed you too, for that matter.”

She smiled. “I miss you terribly, Father. And I did tell you that I could pull it off.”

“Hey, don’t be like that, I was the only who didn’t think it was madness. If anyone could pull off pretending to be a boy to study in the Citadel, one of my girls could.”

“Anyway, what is so important? Or are you just traveling?”

“I got word of a conspiracy…”

“Let me guess, Lord Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne’s baby?”

“They’ve gotten wind of it?” Oberyn asked, now worried. That was their advantage, that the maesters weren’t aware that they had been caught.

“The maester at Winterfell wrote to Archmaester Marwyn.”

“Marwyn? The Mastiff?”

“Please, Father, who can they be surer is _not_ involved in an anti-magic conspiracy?”

“You’re right,” he conceded. “Have you found anything yet?”

Sarella smiled. “Only reason I didn’t write is because you said you were already on your way. Oh, Father, it will blow you away!”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It wasn’t as hard to leave Winterfell this time as it had been the first time: now, Jon already knew and longed for his home, his own castle. He would always miss Winterfell, but as a childhood memory and his father’s home.

“Do you really think this will be a good idea?” Ayla asked, coming nearer to where he stood adjusting Winterstorm’s new saddle.

“I think it’s a splendid idea!” he answered with a smile. “Come on, you were hovering over Irri and the saddle maker the entire time. Besides, I’d never let anything happen.”

“I know, I know!” She huffed. “But what if she can’t last the entire day?”

“Then I’ll notice and I’ll ask them to stop and I’ll deliver her right into your loving and eager arms, how does that sound?” Jon was smiling now: Ayla was very overprotective.

“But… she’s barely past her second name day!”

“Aunt,” Jon turned and held on to her hand, “Lya will be fine, I promise. It’s not the first time she’s gone riding and Irri says Dothraki children start riding still at their mother’s breasts. There is no reason why Lya can’t do the same. The saddle will keep her in place as we ride and I will be holding her.”

“I know. Fine, I’m being overzealous, I know.”

“There is no such thing as overzealousness when it comes to your granddaughter.” Jon kissed her cheek. “I’ll go get Lyanna.”

“Jon!” Ayla called. “Can you _try_ and not just ride fast? I mean, keep a slow pace.”

He chuckled. “Sorry, Aunt. But I shouldn’t make promises I already know I won't keep!”

And now Ayla was even more anxious. She knew, obviously, that Jon would never allow anything to ever harm Lyanna, but when riding at speed, who knows what could happen. She was too little to hold on by herself and one little slip, a torn sleeve, could mean that Jon lost his grip on her.

“You worry too much, love,” Benjen said, coming closer with a smile. “Lyanna will be fine!”

“I know!” Ayla said. “It’s just… oh, come on, you know how fast he goes atop that horse! He is just like his mother, forever chasing the thrill of speed! And if…”

“I know all of that. And I also know that Jon would throw himself from Winterstorm’s back before he let Lya as much as waver from side to side.”

“I know,” she whined as he hugged her. “It’s just… after seeing that scar and the nursery attack…”

“Hey,” Benjen called, pulling her chin to look up, “we’ve redoubled the guards and the attention. And Jon will keep Lya safe. Besides, I wouldn’t put it past the direwolves to ride so close to Winterstorm that if she were to fall, she would fall on them.”

Ayla chuckled, but was finally reassured. Ella watched them from afar, standing with Ned next to the carriage.

“I’m very glad I don’t need to have _that_ argument with you,” she said.

Ned chuckled. “I am not that much of a horse enthusiast to put the children on a saddle when they’re so young. I wish Jon wouldn’t either, quite honestly. At least he isn’t trying to take Little Addam too.”

“Well, he’s his mother’s son,” Ella said. “And Daenerys is her brother’s sister, as she seems only too happy with the whole idea.”

“Well, I am not,” Ned complained. “I’d sleep easier if Lyanna were inside the carriage with you, Ayla, and the other children.”

“I think by the time we go to sleep you will either loathe the idea or you’ll have gotten used to it.”

He only rolled his eyes and helped her inside, then giving his hand to Sansa. Bertha brought Cregan and Rickon and Benjen helped Ayla and Rickard inside.

“Ready to go?” the youngest brother asked.

“Ready to send them a raven to solve their own problems, that’s more like it,” Ned muttered.

Benjen chuckled and they each went to their horses. Lyanna drew everyone’s attention by laughing loudly as Daenerys passed her to a mounted Jon and they strapped the girl into the saddle. Dany had had a toddler version of riding clothes made so Lyanna looked very daring in her leathers and blue cloak. Lady Starling herself had had a new travelling outfit made, one with grey leather leggings and boots underneath a blue long-sleeved dress that opened in a slit at her hips and reached the middle of her calves. She was mixing the practicality of the leather leggings to ride and the dress, the attire appropriate to women — the entire courtyard had risen in whispers the moment she appeared, of course, and more than one lady was looking on appreciatively.

With everyone ready, Ned led the group out of courtyard. He hesitated at the gate, but then pressed his heels to the flank of his steed, prompting him into moving once more, refusing to look back. _I will be back soon_ , he promised himself as Silver fell into step. Together, he and his new companion rode down the winding road that led to the Kingsroad.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

On the deck of the _Lady Daenerys_ , Jon felt a warm wave of happiness take over his heart as the black castle appeared in the horizon.

“It’s an imposing view,” Ned said.

“It is,” Jon agreed. “And I’ll never be able to thank you enough for choosing it for us.”

“Well,” Ned shrugged, uncomfortable, “it had been empty for too long and it’s too beautiful to go to waste.”

Jon chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay? Just for a few days, Father!”

“I’ve been away from the capital for too long already, Jon. You know that. I have a duty to this realm.”

“I know. But you’ve been away for so long that five days won’t make a difference! Please, Father, you never celebrate your own name day.”

“Ella put you up to this, didn’t she?” Ned asked. “I told her I didn’t want to do anything. I haven’t… I don’t even remember the last time I celebrated,” he said, though he knew it was a lie. but guilt still ate at him, so he just ignored it.

“Last year, of course,” Jon smiled.

“Last year Ella ambushed me with a ‘special dinner’. I just… why does it matter?”

“Why shouldn’t it matter, Father? Please? It’s only five days!”

“Pwease, gwanpa!” Lyanna said, coming up to them unnoticed, grabbing on to Ned’s legs. He chuckled, picking her up.

“Now that is a low trick,” he said, smiling back at his beautiful granddaughter. “How can I say no to you?”

“Yaaaaay!” she exclaimed, then wiggled to be put down and rushed back to the main deck where the women were gathered.

“She lives up to her name,” Ned said quietly, watching her go.

“You never speak of her,” Jon spoke just as quietly.

“I fought a war to free her. To save her. I failed.” He went silent for a moment, then turned back to Jon. “Very well, I’ll stay. Five days only. But make it a small dinner Jon, just family.”

“Why don’t you like to celebrate your name day, Father?”

He shrugged. “For years there was nothing to celebrate, but… I suppose it’s fine now. Your uncle did tell me to stop… it doesn’t matter.” _Stop blaming yourself and feeling guilty for things that are done and over with_ , Benjen had said. _As if it were so simple_ , Ned thought.

He turned and walked down to the quarter deck as well. Jon frowned and turned quickly when he heard Addam coming from the other side.

“It’s guilt, what he feels,” the knight said. “Guilt or melancholy, not so sure.”

“Why?”

Addam took a moment to organise his answer. “I told you once, I was with him when he first met you. After your mother died he was… he was sad, obviously. He got you a nurse and everything you needed but… the world had just fallen apart for him. That’s why I think he particularly does not want to celebrate it here.”

“Why does the where make any difference?” Jon asked.

“Because the day you were born, he held on to you for the whole day, barely letting you go long enough to be fed, and then he didn’t hold you again for almost a whole moon. Lyanna had mentioned she wanted to get him a name day present when it was all over, she remembered the date coming closer, so I knew the when. I yelled and bullied him during the entire day, telling him to man up and stop crying over the mess the world had become.”

“Did it work?” Jon asked, unsure of how exactly he felt about it.

“No. Rather, he spent the rest of the day locked up in his chambers. Three days later, it was your first moon and Ayla already wanted to make something to mark the occasion, so she thought to join both things. And well, you know her. She went into that solar and I don’t know what she told him, but he came out looking like a puppy who knew he had done something wrong and he asked me if he could hold you. Quite an achievement, considering she was only your wet-nurse at the time, and not even a long-time family servant. But I think that’s what he remembers when he remembers his name day: how stupid he was back then, how he let guilt and shame and hopelessness consume him and keep him away from his son for a whole moon.”

Jon looked back to the Midnight Fortress, drawing ever near, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon sighed in pure happiness as he threw himself back on their bed.

“Home sweet home!” he exclaimed and Dany chuckled. “I feel like I’ve been travelling for years!”

“Well, it was a bit over a half-year,” she said softly. Jon sat up and looked seriously at her.

“You’ve been sad and withdrawn since White Harbour,” he said. “I think I know why, but I would like you to talk to me about it.”

Dany sighed. “There is nothing to talk about.”

“You’re an awful liar, Dany. And you are the one who nags me about talking when I’m the one closed off. So come on, my turn,” he said, extending his hand towards her. “Talk to me, my beautiful wife.”

“Oh, you!” she said, taking his hand, and chuckling as he pulled her to sit on his lap. “There’s… it’s nothing.” She blushed under his stern look. “I know that every woman is different, I guess I am just a tiny bit jealous.”

“Dany, you nearly died when Little Addam was born. Your body is going to take a bit longer to recover from that.”

“I know, I know… it’s just… I am happy for them, I am. And I know jealousy is an ugly feeling. I don’t wish they wouldn’t… Ella, Father, Aunt Ayla, and Uncle Benjen deserve their babies, so I am thrilled that they are both with child. It’s just… I wanted _us_ to have another one too.”

“We will, Dany, we will. But your body went through an ordeal, our baby was born early, and then you were under a lot of stress, going up to the Wall, and with what… what happened to me,” Jon said and she rested a hand over the scar on his chest, hidden beneath his clothes. “Don’t ask too much of yourself, Dany. It will happen when it needs to happen. Look at the gaps between my siblings!”

“I know, I know. I just… I suppose I am greedy. I want to fill this castle with our children!”

“We will,” Jon insisted. “We’ll have so many kids that you will end up hating me and sending me to sleep elsewhere.” They both laughed. “You need to let it happen, Dany. I am no maester, but I am quite sure stress is not good. It isn’t good for anything, why would it be good for this?” Dany laughed, the black cloud dissipating. “Now,” Jon smirked, “what do you say we put in some practice. For trying purposes, of course.”

“Practice, right,” she laughed, but then Jon captured her lips in a kiss and then she forgot why she had been upset in the first place.

In the next morning, when she had to suffer under Irri and Doreah’s smirks at her torn laces, she felt lighter than she had ever since Winterfell.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon asked Dany, Ayla, and Ella to keep the name day dinner small, really family only. On the days since the ship, he had thought long and hard about what Addam had told him. And though he did feel hurt, his days of gnawing on the point had brought him some clarity. He tried to put himself on his father’s place, as abstract and far-off the idea had seemed to him. His sister vanished, allegedly kidnapped and raped; his father and brother murdered by a mad man, who had tried to call for his own head; rising in rebellion against his King to avenge his family; having to marry his brother’s former betrothed, a woman he neither loved nor cared for, all the while the lady he did love was miles away, carrying his daughter, a daughter who was murdered from within her mother’s womb by a group of evil men; having a moment of weakness due to the madness happening around him; winning the war, at the cost of so many lives lost; finding his sister, the sister he loved and had so fought so hard to free, only have her die in his arms; going to the lady he had heard carried his son only to also have her die. So much death and tragedy.

“Father?” he asked, coming into the room after knocking. “Might we talk?” It was still just after noon, but Jon wanted to have this conversation before dinner.

“Of course, son,” Ned said with a smile, putting down his quill and setting the parchment aside. “Come in. Is something wrong?”

“Not exactly,” Jon said hesitantly. “I… well, it’s an… I’m no good in talking about feelings, and neither are you so I suppose we are both in for an awkward conversation.”

“You’re starting to scare me, son.”

“Addam told me, that day on the ship, why you don’t like to celebrate your name day.”

Ned stiffened, then cursed under his breath. “For a great knight, Addam is worse than the town’s tell-tale! Son, I…”

“Father, please, let me say something first. I won’t deny that there was some hurt after he told me. But I thought about it and I can't even imagine how your head must have been like. Then I remembered what Robb told me, about our elder sister, and I really… you were in a bad place, Father, I know that. And you tried to detach yourself, but what matters is that you recognised you were wrong. And ever since then, you never once let me feel like I was any less your son than Robb.”

“Except when I closed my eyes and let Catelyn…”

“You let your wife handle domestic issues, Father, as every lord does. I do that too, though I suppose Dany pawns most of it off on Aunt Ayla, since she hates dealing with it as well. But anyway, the point is that as we grew up you never once let me think I was any less your son than Robb. Well, he was the heir, but still, you trained and taught us both equally. And I know this is not the rule for bastards—”

“Jon, please, don’t…”

“I know lords usually ignore or send away their bastards. But you didn’t. Some will say that it’s because the King betrothed Dany and I, so you needed to raise me right, but I know it wasn’t that. The King only betrothed me to Dany because you had taken me in and brought me to King's Landing with you before we came home to Winterfell. So, back to your name day, you made a mistake, but you fixed it, Father. Don’t let the ghost of this mistake haunt you any longer. Let’s celebrate it. Please.”

Ned smiled, touched. _You really are your mother’s son, Jon_ , he thought. _You couldn’t be more like her if you tried. And if she had been here to raise you…_

“You _are_ my son, Jon,” he said, putting his hands on the younger man’s shoulders. “You are as much my son as Robb, Bran, Rickon, and Cregan. Please, just… just don’t ever forget that. _Ever_. I might have been stupid back then, but I have loved you from the moment Ayla put you in my arms. You might not have my name, but you have my blood. _You are my son_ ,” he insisted.

Jon smiled and they hugged.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The next two days went by in a flash and soon it was time to leave again. Lyanna spent the morning following Ned around, glued to his knees or in his arms, saying she wanted ‘gwanpa’ to stay just a bit longer. When they went to board the boats to go down river, the question about the direwolves was answered: Lady, Nymeria, and Shaggydog didn’t even motion to leave the pier, but Silver jumped into the first boat.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come with us,” Ned said. The direwolf merely sat, showing he had no intention of leaving the boat. “That promises to be a funny fight with His Grace,” he said quietly, helping his wife aboard: at four moons along already, her bump was already showing beneath her dress and he knew it would be even more obvious with the lighter dresses in the south. She chuckled.

“Cersei isn’t there anymore,” Ella said. “And besides, it’s one thing to complain about your daughter’s pet, since everyone already agreed that a little girl had no business with a direwolf, it is quite another to say something against _you_.”

Ned huffed, but didn’t say anything, checking to see if everyone had boarded their boats, and ordering the push off. He really was not looking forward to the arrival in the capital. Even if a little bird had whispered good news on the identity of the nursery attacker.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!!!
> 
> My exams are finally done and thanks to the holiday this Friday I was able to finish this chapter, so yay!
> 
> I don't know about the rest of the world, but over here this Monday is Teacher's Day, so I would like to send all the best for those who, like me, make it their job to teach young generations or older people or anyone really. After all, the best knowledge is shared knowledge!
> 
> As always I would love to hear your thoughts in comment form :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned arrives in King's Landing and must deal with a lot.

Ned only rolled his eyes when they rode into the courtyard of the Tower of the Hand: as usual, a steward was there waiting for him.

“His Grace would like to welcome you home and invite you to his chambers for a drink, my Lord Hand.”

Ned scoffed. _Welcome home_. As if. “You may tell His Grace that I should be delighted to accept his invitation. On the morrow. For now, I am simply too tired after my travels and I must rest and see to my work, therefore I have no time to indulge in refreshments.”

“But… but… my lord… the King!”

“Will certainly be understanding that I must put duty first.”

“Lord Stark, I must insist…” the steward started, but then Silver appeared next to Ned and the man stumbled back in shock and utter fear.

“As I said,” Ned begun, biting back a smile, “you may tell His Grace I shall come to meet him on the morrow.” He then turned away from the steward and to the carriage, to help Ella out. Silver stepped in front of him, facing the steward, who quickly collected his wits and rushed away, back to the King’s chambers.

“Are you sure that was wise?” Ella asked.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with Robert’s drunkenness right now,” he replied quietly, petting Silver’s head. “Jory, send for Ser Barristan, Lord Varys, and Lord Manderly, tell them to come in one hour. Then summon Maester Byren.”

“Ned, are you sure you want to tackle this all at once?” Ella asked.

“I have to. You are five moons pregnant and I won't have… I need to know I can trust him. I won't allow them to come after my family again.”

“I am as sceptical to their order as you are, but nothing is going to happen between today and tomorrow. Maester Byren was recommended by Maester Luwin and Cregan is living proof that…”

“I am not taking any chances,” he stated decisively. “Go now, Jory.”

Ella knew better than to try and continue arguing. Besides, she was in desperate need of a bath and a good nap before going to deal with the wedding preparations now that it was so close and fast approaching. They had just reached the foyer when the Arya and Rickon came running.

“Father can we send for Syrio?” the girl asked.

“Tomorrow!” Ella said after rolling her eyes.

“You may send a message to him today if you wish, children,” Ned said with barely concealed mirth, “but he won’t come before tomorrow. Today is a day for resting and unpacking.”

“And whoever does not unpack properly may not ride or have dancing or sword lessons,” Ella said seriously, to which both children immediately begun to complain.

“Arya! Rickon!” Ned called. “Your stepmother has made a decision. You will respect it.”

“Aye, Father,” the both said in dismayed unison and they rushed up the stairs to their chambers.

“They won’t unpack properly, will they?” Ned asked.

Ella snorted. “Of course not. They’ll try to and they’ll even try to put everything in their proper general location, but gods do they have poor organisational skills. I will just have to walk them through it later.”

Ned chuckled. Sansa put Cregan down on the floor, and he was still a bit cranky to have his nap interrupted.

“Come here, boy, come to papa!”

“Father, he is too young to walk!” Sansa insisted, taking off her cloak.

“He gave a few steps,” Ned insisted back.

“Ned, stop pressuring him, he will walk when he is ready,” Ella said. “He was trying to show off because Lyanna wouldn’t stop running ‘round the room, but he doesn’t have that incentive now.”

“And he just woke up,” Sansa added. “Good luck trying to get him in a good mood.”

“Right you are, dear. Come on, let’s find ourselves some baths,” Ella said and Sansa rushed over, putting her arm through hers. “Then we have loads to do! I have to check how the preparations are going, can I count on you?”

“Of course!” Sansa replied and the two begun to climb the stairs, talking about food, and drink, and entertainment, and guest lists.

“It’s alright, son,” Ned said, picking up Cregan as he crawled over. “I’d be cranky if they jolted me awake from a nap too.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The steward shrunk and dodged the flying wine cup spiralling wine all around the room. Jaime had to bite his lip to keep in his sigh: Robert was beginning to be even more insufferable than usual with this repeated childish behaviour.

“What do you mean, Lord Stark is not coming?” the King asked. “Has he not arrived in the Red Keep?”

“He has, Your Grace, he has,” the poor man stammered. “But he claimed to be overtired and with too much work to be done. He said he will join you to celebrate his return on the morrow.”

“Tired! And you didn’t say anything else? Are you a fucking spineless cunt?”

“No, Your Grace, of course not. It’s just… I just… you see, I couldn’t very well drag Lord Stark here.”

“Well, that is too bad. I'm certain it would have been quite entertaining,” Jaime said ironically. Robert glared at him.

“Though I must say, Your Grace… I mean I… well, you see, Lord Stark didn’t return alone.”

“Of course not, you dumb shit!” Robert exclaimed. “His family came with him, didn’t it? His lady wife and half the children.”

“Yes, yes, I didn’t mean that. I just… you see, he brought… well, I think it was a direwolf, Your Grace. I mean, I have never seen a wolf that big, it was almost as tall as the horses!”

“Oh-ho, now that promises to be interesting,” Jaime said. “After that incident on the road back from Winterfell.”

“Out, the both of you! Get out!” the King yelled. The steward scurried away like a scared cat and Jaime bowed and turned away slowly. “You must be laughing inside, Lannister,” Robert said acidly.

“I see no reason to laugh, Your Grace. We all know how boring Lord Stark is, always putting his beloved cold duty before anything else. It’s a wonder, really, that he ever managed to be your friend. I mean, Lord Stark is dutiful, loyal, and honourable. Whatever did you have in common?”

“Mind your tongue, Lannister, or I will box it up and have it sent to your father.”

“The Mad King threatened that once,” Jaime shrugged, “I was actually worried when **_he_** did it.”

Robert took the flagon of wine, the nearest thing, and threw it at the Kingsguard, getting wine to shower the other side of the room. Jaime closed the door in time to shield his white cloak. The flagon clinked against the wood, the metal part making an echoing sound as the glass exploded in thousands of pieces. The King wished his friendship with Ned would be fixed as easily as calling for the maids to clean it up and bring more wine.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned was rubbing his temples, trying to dispel the migraine that had started after his conversation with Maester Byren. Silver was stretched in front of the unlit fireplace, very satisfied with his position as intimidator. But that was something that could not become a habit, or it would become another source of trouble with Robert: if everyone in the city was scared or threatened by the direwolf not even the Handship would be able to protect him.

“Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard,” Jory announced.

“Lord Stark,” the knight said after coming in, “I must say you have been missed.”

“Seven Hells, don’t tell me the Council has gone to pieces,” Ned grumbled, gesturing for them to sit.

“No, the ruling part was well handled. Other than a scuffle or two with the City Guard about hiring more men and giving them raises, Lord Renly and Lord Varys managed to keep everything in hand. I’m afraid that you shall have to deal with it, though, and I believe Janos Slynt is determined to have more gold.”

“One more thing on my list for tomorrow,” Ned said. “Anything else I should be aware of? My maester made it seem like there was something you would like to tell me.”

“And so there is,” Ser Barristan said.

“Oh, it seems I got here just in time,” Varys said. Ned only rolled his eyes at his unannounced entrance.

“It happened when Maester Byren came to tell the King about your raven that you had arrived in Castle Black,” Barristan started. “I decided against sending you a message because Lord Varys and I were able to… fix the situation and I did not wish to disturb you when you had left in such an important task.”

“Gods, don’t tell me the King has been threatened!” Ned exclaimed.

“It is a way of looking at the situation,” Varys said.

“Maester Byren noticed the King was… a bit drunker than usual.”

Ned snorted. “Is that supposed to be surprising?”

“The Maester examined His Grace and was able to determine that some herb was being added to the King’s wine, making him more uncontrollable, making the effects of the wine more intense.”

Ned stood up and went to the window. Finally, a few moons after autumn had officially been declared, the heat of King’s Landing had broken, though it was still far hotter than he was comfortable with. Still, it was easier to think when his brain wasn’t melting.

“His squire is a Lannister boy, isn’t he? One of Lord Kevan’s sons?” he asked,

“Yes, my lord,” Varys said. “I was able to ensure the King’s wine was cleared of this enhancing herb, but Ser Barristan and I agreed harsh decisions were unadvisable.”

“We can’t send any more insults to Casterly Rock or Lord Tywin will stop biding his time and the last thing we want — or need — is open conflict,” Ned said. “But the boy must go. Ser Barristan, can he be knighted?”

“Well, I quite doubt the boy knows which way is the pommel of a sword, my lord, but he wouldn’t be the first knight in this situation.”

“Having one more Lannister walking around posed like a peacock is a small price to pay in the broader scheme of things,” Ned said sourly. “But I need to find another boy to replace him before I put it to the King. It is time we thin out the herd of Lannisters surrounding His Grace.”

“Perhaps a Stormlord’s son?” Varys suggested. “So the Lannisters can’t claim you are trying to surround the King with your own people.”

“Good suggestion. I shall speak with Lord Renly to hear his suggestions. Does that mean the King is no longer so… altered?” Ned asked and the other two exchanged a look.

“Speaking freely, Lord Stark,” Barristan said, “but Robert always had too much love for wine. He isn’t as out of control as he was just before you left, but he still spends most of his days in his cups.”

“I see.” Ned sighed. He wished the problem had been the altered wine. But it seemed Robert’s addiction wasn’t so easily vanquished after all. “In your last raven, Lord Varys, you said you had news about the whole scheme to murder my son and grandson. Do you have a lead?”

“Better yet, my lord. I have a name.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ella stirred when she felt movement, blinking awake confusedly.

“Sorry,” Ned said in a quiet voice. “I was trying not to wake you.”

She looked around, gathering her wits. She remembered settling the children in, then soaking in a relaxing bath, and finally curling on the armchair by the hearth with Poole’s reports of the household duties. She must have fallen asleep at some point, because the sky was dark outside and Ned was carrying her to bed.

“It’s alright. I suppose I should wake up to eat anyway.”

“I’m certain the babe would be grateful.” He chuckled.

“Did you deal with everything you had to deal with?”

He sighed. “Maester Byren might be a bit upset,” he confessed.

“Ned, what did you do?”

“I asked him if I could trust him, that I had recently discovered a conspiracy to get rid of ‘unfavourable’ children, and if he had anything to do with the conspirators. Silver did some intimidating, though. But now I know for certain we might trust the good maester.”

“Good. I should hate to feel so vulnerable. What did Varys and Barristan have to say?”

“Varys got a name,” he revealed with an exhale. “A spice merchant with a store here on the Hook.”

“But why? What have we ever done to this man?”

“It seems his store was flourishing and then when I went through the books, cutting off helping hands and charging all taxes overdue, he fell on bad times. He is facing money problems and all because, in his eyes, I put an end to that corruption.”

“Did Varys find proof?”

“Of course he did.” Ned snorted. “There is one thing we have to say about Lord Varys, and it is that he does know how to find out even the deepest of secrets. He found enough proof that even Tywin Lannister, who would certainly oppose anything in my favour, couldn’t find cause to base a challenge.”

“So will you talk to Robert? And then hang the would-be murderer?”

“Aye. I just have to talk to someone first.”

Ella turned to him with a raised brow. “Who?”

Ned only blushed, though anger rushed through him.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned drummed his fingers on the table top, unhappy with the waiting. He just wanted to get to the bottom of this story and he had prayed that this suspicion was unfounded. However, after everything that had happened, he need to ask, to make sure.

“Ned!” Catelyn came into the room with a bright smile. It faltered a bit when she noticed he was alone. “I was… I had hoped the girls would be with you.”

“I thought about bringing them,” he said. “However, what I want to speak with you is not for their ears. Depending on our conversation today, I will ask Jory to bring them, and Rickon as well, tomorrow.”

“Rickon is here? I had thought… I thought he was in Winterfell.”

“No, not anymore,” he said drily, now looking for a way to ask what he had come to ask.

“Ned, just say it already. I know… that day, before your wedding, I was out of control and the girls were disappointed. But it’s been almost two years since then. Arya returned the letter I sent unopened and Sansa only replied once, to ask me to not write again. Robb won't reply either, only Bran. I just… I made a mistake, I know that. I am trying to apologise for it.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Good. It is good that you recognise it was wrong, but we both know it was bigger than a ‘mistake’, Catelyn. But that said, I will talk with the girls about coming to see you, as I said.”

“Thank you. But what did you want to ask me? There was gossip you travelled north. Is that true?”

“Aye. Robb needed my help to deal with an issue with the Night's Watch. But I came because of something that happened while we were in Winterfell.” He threw the pouch he had brought south on the table. Catelyn frowned and reached for it. “Don’t touch it,” Ned warned, but felt a weight lifting: Ayla had said the pouch was very similar, if not identical to the one she had found in Jon’s cradle so long ago, so if Catelyn had had anything to do with it, her first response would not have been to try and grab it. She pulled her hand back.

“I assume it’s poisonous,” she said, looking at him still frowning. Then realisation clicked. “If you are here, you are worried it might have come from me. And that almost certainly means it was found in your son’s cradle. Well, your son with the…”

“Watch your words, Catelyn!” he snapped. “I came here because I was hoping and praying you had nothing to do with this. There were two of them, one found in Cregan’s cradle and another found in Little Addam’s. Jon and Daenerys’ son,” he explained when she seemed confused. “But even that wouldn’t be enough to compel me to think it was you. Until Ayla told me she had found one in Jon’s cradle when he was just a babe. And that you had dismissed it and said it had been her imagination, that she was trying to cause trouble to draw my attention to my son.”

Catelyn frowned again. “Ayla who? Isn't that the laundry maid? The one you appointed to be housekeeper to those two? She had quite a lot to say against me that day in Winterfell. Do you truly believe a laundry maid that clearly did not like me? What was she even doing in the nursery?”

Ned scoffed. “You really pay no mind to those you think as beneath you, do you?” he asked ironically, making her blush. “All those times I invited less prestigious bannermen, common people and such to Winterfell, to sit at my table and you turned your nose, you really don’t think of them as anything worthy of time or attention.” He looked away for a moment to clear his head. “Ayla was a maid to Jon’s mother—”

“You mean to tell me your common wife had maids before you married her?”

“Enough, Catelyn! Ayla was a maid to Jon’s mother and as she promised to care for Jon, I brought her north with me. She was his wet-nurse. I don’t think I need to remind you of the low trick you used to drive her away from Winterfell, as she was the only one protecting Jon from your cruelty. She spent a few years away and returned as a laundry maid. In your ignominy of those you think of as less than people, you didn’t recognise her. Fate worked in a funny way and I made her the Starling housekeeper and she is Lady Crystark now.”

“Crystark? And lady?”

“Benjen decided ‘Stark of the Blessed Island’ was too big. Since he is Lord of Crystalia, he decided to make it House Crystark.”

“So your brother was given lands and a lordship and he decides to waste it in a common woman?” Catelyn sneered. “Tell me, what is the fascination with common people?”

“You know, Catelyn, it does astonish me how someone as religious as you, someone who prays to the Seven so much, who is studying to become a septa, can be as merciless and unkind as you are,” he said and she looked down, blushing. “But we digress. The pouch found in Jon’s cradle. Did you have anything to do with it?”

“Of course not. That was imagined by that… by _Lady Crystark_. There was no pouch and the bastard had—”

“I thought I had told you to not call him that anymore!”

“Very well.” She huffed. “Who would waste their time plotting to murder your illegitimate son? Especially before he was old enough to walk, let alone offend anyone.”

“You mean other than you?”

“I am deeply—”

“Do not blame me for suspecting you after all you, upon your own confession, prayed for. You said you had prayed for Jon’s death. And you did, in front of me, yell your prayers that I would have no more children.”

“You are right,” she conceded begrudgingly. “But I know nothing about it. And I can’t speak for the past, but my father made it quite clear I was dead to him the day he kicked me out of Riverrun, so I quite doubt he would be involved, not that it would fit him to harm children.”

Ned nodded and pocketed the pouch. He was standing up to leave when another thought occurred to him.

“Your betrothal to Brandon. Do you know how that came about?”

“Of all the… what kind of question is this?” she asked.

“Curiosity. Did your father come up with it or was it mine?”

“I don’t…” Catelyn was very confused now. His suspicions had some reason, but this… “I am not sure. I don’t think I ever thought about it. Lysa… Lysa liked to try and discover, hear about Father’s deals. One day she said Father had been exchanging letters with Lord Stark — well, your father, obviously. A few moons later, Father summoned me and told me he had arranged for my betrothal to Brandon. I don’t know who came up with it. All I know is that the septon was unhappy, saying worshipers of the True Gods had nothing to do in the pagan North, but the maester interfered and said it was a splendid match.”

 _The maester,_ Ned thought, _of course_. “Then I have my answer. Thank you, Catelyn.”

“Ned, wait! I… I know you don’t pay attention to these things, you never did. I mean, you never liked to celebrate your own, but… it would mean a lot to me if the children could come and visit me the day after tomorrow.” He frowned for a moment, confused about what she meant. Catelyn rolled her eyes — it was so much like Ned to never care for dates like these! “It will be the sixth day of the second moon.”

He blinked, going through his memory and trying to remember why it would make any difference. Then he blushed a tiny bit at his own blunder. “Oh. Of course. I… I’m sorry, I don’t ever think about these things. I will talk to them.”

“Thank you,” she said, watching him leave. But Ned stopped at the door.

“Happy name day, Catelyn.”

He then left the room, feeling indeed more relieved that she had had nothing to do with either of the attempts. But it raised another question — who had the spice merchant hired for the hit? If this had been the same man hired so long ago to attempt against Jon’s life, was it his murderer’s signature? And what an odd signature, certainly one that would raise quite the curiosity around it. And he had never heard of it being used elsewhere. Nor had Varys said anything. But what was nagging at him was the cause for it all. Because if Varys was right — and he usually was in these cases — then the spice merchant had cause only for the attempt on Cregan’s life. But why move against Little Addam as well? Because if it was a matter of being unsure which baby was Cregan, then Little Addam, with his silver-blond Targaryen hair, was the one who could be excluded from the doubt. Therefore, with his grandson’s parentage clear on his head, it would have made sense only to put the pouches on Cregan’s and Rickard’s cradles. So the only explanation was that both Cregan and Little Addam had been the targets from the beginning. But what did the spice merchant have against Little Addam? Or perhaps, if this was the same murderer that had failed to kill Jon in the past, had he acted against Little Addam only to fulfil the order he had failed before? All questions without answer. And now Ned had to prepare for another hard conversation.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned took one last breath, summoning all of his patience, before coming into Robert’s chambers.

“Ned!” the King exclaimed, standing up with a huge smile. “You are here! I am so glad you are back safely, my friend.”

“So am I,” Ned said. “Lord Renly, it’s good to see you.”

“Likewise, Lord Stark. You have been missed in the Small Council. I'm sure you were able to glance through the pile of things to deal with.”

“That boring business can wait!” Robert said, but his smile faltered a bit more upon Ned’s glare.

“I have glanced through it, but I had too much to deal with this morning. I will look deeper in the days to come. But there was a matter I need to discuss with you soon, Lord Renly, if you can spare the time.”

“Most certainly.”

Robert cleared his throat. “Renly, I’ve given you a decree. Go see to preparations,” he snapped impatiently. His little brother had nothing else to do in his chambers other than be in the way.

“Preparations to what?” Ned asked. Renly visibly bit both his lips, keeping the answer in. The King looked down. “Robert, preparations to what?”

“I have given a decree,” the King said, his patience visibly thinning.

“I heard that,” Ned said back, “I merely want to ascertain the subject matter of this decree.”

“It is a royal decree!”

“And as I am the Hand of the King I am going to be bold and say I am entitled to at least know what it is about!”

Renly merely watched, looking from one man to the other as their tempers clashed. He knew his brother: the King was very used to getting his way. In truth, before Ned Stark had come to the capital, no one had ever thought to oppose him, so Robert hadn’t heard the word ‘no’ in over a decade and a half. A word he had come to hear a bit often ever since Lord Stark became Hand. And now it seemed the two would argue again. But Renly was surprised to see that Robert huffed, but took a step back.

“I know you would oppose a tourney…” the King said.

“I most certainly would!” Ned exclaimed.

“So I told Renly to keep it simple.”

Ned bit back a curse. “And what is ‘keeping it simple’?” he asked. Robert hesitated. “Renly, let me see that!”

The young lord passed the parchment over without delay and Ned scoffed as he read it. Robert sat back down at his desk, reaching for the wine. Ned got to the flagon before him and took it out of reach. It was the King’s turn to glare.

“Lord Renly, I shall discuss this with His Grace before getting back to you. Unless you have an objection, I shall stop by your solar later.”

“Of course, Lord Stark, I shall be anxiously expecting you. Your Grace.” Bowing, he left the room.

Ned exhaled as he went to sit across from Robert at the desk.

“Ser Barristan…” the King cleared his throat. “He mentioned that I acted… a bit out of control just before you left.”

“Ser Barristan mentioned it, huh. Do you even remember?” Ned asked.

“I cut back when they said you were sailing south,” Robert mumbled.

“Robert, you can’t cut back just because you want to remember my arrival.” He sighed. “I hope you will not take offence, but I will speak openly now. And I will not speak to my King, I will speak to my friend. I'm tired of making excuses for you, Robert.”

“I never asked you to make excuses for me!” the King exclaimed, his defences going up.

“The moment you asked me to be your Hand and clean up your messes was the moment you asked me to make excuses for you,” Ned said and the fight deflated in Robert again. “I understand you are… that you don’t like the responsibilities and the endless constraints of the Crown. But you got that when you got the capital. In Winterfell, you told me you wanted me to rule your kingdoms while you whored your way to an early grave and I don’t think you realise how soon that is coming if you don’t find some balance. So whore your way around as much as you can, it’s your life and the gods know I have no love lost for your wife, but at least try to maintain a minimum of dignity. Otherwise all you’ll be remembered for is as ‘the Whoremonger Rebel King’.”

Robert had the decency to blush. “What else is there to do, Ned? I have nothing… what should I live for?”

 _His life will be empty of joy and purpose and he will come to despise the throne he stole in the height of his hubris!_ Lyanna had cursed Robert moments before her death. Ned had been a sceptic most of his life, but lately he could not deny that there was something grander than them, he could not deny that some force, be it the gods or the magic, that governed their daily lives. There were too many coincidences otherwise.

“Why did you win the throne, Robert?” Ned asked, shocked at how vulnerable he looked just now. He had only seen his old friend this vulnerable in two occasions: when he had brought Lyanna’s bones and when he delivered the news of his granddaughter’s birth and the name chosen for her. “It wasn’t only just so the Mad King wouldn’t chop both our heads off. You won the throne, you are now responsible for millions of people this continent over.”

“I won it for your sister!” Robert exclaimed and Ned wanted to curse. “All I did, I did it to crown her as **_my_** queen. I won the war for her. And it was all for nothing.”

Ned felt a shiver go down his spine. _I won the war for her_ — it almost sounded like what Robert resented the most was that, in that final joust in Harrenhall, it hadn’t been him and Rhaegar fighting for that damned crown of winter roses. It sounded like it was never about the Crown or about the Iron Throne, and fuck the Seven Kingdoms. It had all been about a garland of flowers and a Queen of Love and Beauty. It only sounded more ridiculous when you knew the whole truth surrounding the Rebellion.

“Fine.” Ned sighed. “But my sister has been dead for almost twenty years. You can’t keep living in the past, Robert. And so we are brought back to this.” He waved the parchment in the air. “We are six million gold dragons in debt, Robert. We can’t be having tourneys and feasts for absolutely no reason.”

“Must we…” Robert started and Ned saw his temper coming back.

“We must ‘count coppers’, as you say, because before long the Iron Bank will call to collect its due and we can’t pay,” Ned cut in before the King could dismiss the subject. Again.

“What can they do? Yell at me?” Robert scoffed.

“They can hire mercenaries, one of the dozen companies that run around Essos, and try and wreak havoc here.”

“Oh, they will hire mercenaries, will they? Let them! Then I will get my hammer and—”

“And embarrass yourself, more like,” Ned said. “Neither of us is winning any battles in the front lines anymore, Robert. We’re twenty years beyond that.”

“I can still kill a few bastards!” he insisted.

“A few of the slow ones, I'm sure. Before they kill you. Unless of course they decide to be as sycophantic as the people you surrounded yourself with and let you win.”

Robert huffed, irritated, his face red with anger. But Ned didn’t back down and finally the other scoffed, exhaling in annoyance.

“That’s why I need you, Ned! I can’t… I can’t _care_ about all this. Not like you.”

 “Fine. I will care about everything, Robert, but you need to help me. You _need_ to curb redundant expenses.”

“We could have some…”

“If you want a party, then have one. You are the King, I can counsel you but I can’t force you to anything. But know that there will be consequences. The Iron Bank will come and kill us, our families, and your people.”

“Fine,” he conceded begrudgingly. “So, about the feast…”

“No feast, Robert.”

“You just spent moons away! We need to celebrate…”

Ned sat back on his chair. “Did you even bother to ask _why_ I left? Because by your own admission you don’t remember it when I came to tell you.”

“I, ahn…” Robert blushed. “Something about the Night's Watch? Ser Barristan said you were in Castle Black.”

“Unbelievable.” Ned snorted. “Robb and Jon went to investigate problems with the Watch. In Castle Black, they decided that to solve the problem they needed to speak with the King Beyond the Wall.”

“The wildlings have a king?”

“Not anymore. He’s bent the knee to you.”

“Oh. Why, what have I given him in return?”

“Asylum. The deal I brokered included that Lord Commander Mormont opened the gates to allow the Free Folk south.”

“Why? Whatever for? The Wall was there to keep them out!”

“White Walkers are real,” Ned revealed, prepared for the reaction. And Robert didn’t disappoint, laughing loudly.

“Oh,” he said after a moment, clearing the tears that escaped his eyes. “You are actually serious? Ned, it’s a nursery story!”

“I wish it was. I saw the wights, their foot soldiers. Trust me Robert, we would rather they stayed north of the Wall.”

“You saw them, did you!” Robert snorted. “Nursery stories. Those wildlings are trying to appeal to your good nature!”

“I know what I saw in Castle Black and I trust what my sons saw Beyond the Wall.”

“Fine.” Robert chuckled, clearly still unbelieving. “Now what?”

“Now I go talk to Renly to see how we can enforce the law about the taxes due to the Night's Watch, and even optimise it. Then over to Baelish to see how it can bring anything to the Treasury. And we pray that the Walkers and their army stay in the frozen wastelands.”

Robert stood up and went to grab the wine, drinking a whole cup as he took it all in.

“Very well, Lord Hand. Do what you must do. Anything else worthy of notice?”

Ned could see that Robert still did not believe in the White Walkers. And that hurt. As far-fetched as the story was, one would have thought that the King would believe his so-called best friend, rather than merely humour him. But he got the permission to go ahead with what needed to be done, so he decided to not dwell on it now. He took a deep breath in preparation for what came next: the tale of what happened in Winterfell, Lord Varys’ subsequent discovery, and the proof that could sentence a man to death.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holiday + good grades = extra 1k words for you :D
> 
> But on something I've been seeing on a lot of comments -- Ned withholding the truth from Jon. Sorry, guys, but I had an idea for the reveal so I need somethings to happen and some people to arrive in some places before my idea can happen. So please bear with me and I hope the reveal will be worth it. It's coming soonish!
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! And don't forget to leave kudos and comments :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spice merchant is tried before the Court and Catelyn receives visitors on her name day. While checking the forge, Sam has an interesting idea.

Robert looked up from the pouch on his desk to Ned.

“They tried to kill your son?” he asked.

“My son and my grandson. They broke into Winterfell’s nursery.”

“I see. You said Varys found a name?”

“Aye. I know Lord Varys works for the Crown, but I asked him to aid me.”

Robert waved his excuse away. “An offence against the Hand of the King is an offence against the Iron Throne. Tell the City Guard to arrest the cunt. Court will gather tomorrow to see the evidence and hear what he has to say for himself.”

“Thank you.” Before he left, though, Ned turned back to the desk. “Robert, you know I can’t lead the trial if I’m the one accusing him and the offence was against my family. So unless you want to hear about Renly sitting on the Iron Throne…”

Robert laughed loudly again. “That will be the day!” He begun to cough in his mirth, washing it down with a generous gulp of wine. “Renly worries too much about his clothes and friends. If he ever sits on the throne, then you will certainly have trouble counting your precious coppers!”

“So can you please be sober tomorrow?” Ned asked and the King rolled his eyes. Ned sighed. “Robert, if you are drunk in Court people will begin to whisper that you are unfit to be King, that you are a puppet in the hands of the Council. I don’t think I need to remind you what happened the last time the lords were unhappy with their king.”

“Are you comparing me to that mad dragon?!”

“Will you stop and listen to the words before you explode in fury? I am speaking about the situation, Robert. You can’t let people see you as weak upon the throne. I’m trying to protect you.”

“Oh. Fine, I will be sober. If you let me throw a feast. Small affair, I promise.”

“Fine, have your feast!” Ned agreed, frustrated. And then an idea occurred to him. He lacked Robert’s charisma, the charm to convince people to do his bidding. “But I need you to do something during this feast. And when people get here for Robb’s wedding.”

“Seven Hells!” Robert laughed. “You really are bold, blackmailing your King!”

“It’s not blackmail. I merely need you to make sure your lords follow a law they would rather forget. Make them understand that it is not an extra tax, but rather one they neglected.”

Robert snorted. “Alright, alright, Lord Stark. I’ll convince them to pay the Watch.”

“No. I need you to convince them to pay the Treasury what they owe the Watch. Then I will negotiate a payment plan with Lord Commander Mormont.”

“You… you found a source of income!” Robert was shocked.

“Convince them, Your Grace, and I’ll stop annoying you about counting coppers so very much.”

Robert cackled the loudest laugh yet. “See! I knew I could trust this all on you!” he served two cups and raised his in a toast. “To the man who solved the fucking problem!”

Ned chuckled, rolling his eyes, but accepting the toast. All in all, he had gotten all he needed to get done.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Sansa had been very upset that she wasn’t allowed to attend Court that morning, but Ned had decided that a trial for an attempted murder — of her brother and nephew, no less — was no place for a four-and-ten-year-old girl.

He was now standing at the throne’s right-hand side, waiting for Robert to arrive, as people assembled. Ella was just bellow the dais, with Bertha and Lady Wynafryd, a Northern front.

“Let get this done!” Robert said as he finally took his seat on the Iron Throne. “Bring in the prisoner!”

The guards brought the spice merchant, Clarence, before the Court. It seemed his overnight stay in the black cells had not been kind to him: his hair was dishevelled and his robes were dirty, his eyes bloodshot.

“Clarence, merchant of King's Landing,” Robert said clearly, “you are brought before your King and the assembled Court to face judgement on the accusation of attempted murder of Lord Cregan Stark, Lord of Moat Cailin, and Lord Addam Starling, youngest son and grandson to Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, Warden of the North, and Hand of the King. Before the evidence against you is presented, how do you plead?”

The man visibly trembled, swallowed dry, and was sweating, although the room was not stuffy. “I… ah…” he looked over to where his family stood. Then he seemed invigorated, granted strength by something only he saw. “I am innocent, Your Grace. There is no proof against me.”

“And we are here just for the fun of it, are we?” Robert said ironically. “Present the evidence and bring in the witnesses!”

The first to take the stand was Jory, who described how he found the rest of the sellswords in Wintertown — omitting Silver’s help in tracking their scent — and how amidst their belongings he had found the separate ingredients from the pouches, wrapped in a package with a symbol. Then Ned took the stand and read aloud Maester Luwin’s report about his experiment with the rats and the poison.

“Grand Maester Pycelle,” Robert called, “as a man of the Citadel, do you stand by the findings of Winterfell’s maester?”

Pycelle stood up slowly, coughing and wheezing. “I do, Your Grace. The report Lord Stark read to the Court follows all of the correct procedures of the Citadel. I stand by Maester Luwin’s findings.”

Then Jory brought the packages he had found in the inn of Wintertown.

“Is the symbol on these packages the one from your store, merchant?” Robert asked.

“Anyone could copy it, Your Grace!” Clarence claimed.

“Do you sell these items in your store?” the King asked again.

“Common things! Anyone can find them anywhere!”

“Not in the North,” Ned said and everyone turned to him, again to Robert’s right. “These are southern plants and spices. They don’t grow in the North.”

“Bring in the other witness!” Robert called.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Lord Baelish watched from the gallery the trial happening. He had cursed loudly when his spies had sent the message that the boys had survived. Once again, he had failed to reach inside Winterfell’s nursery! He had known and prepared for the investigation, since he knew he was not going against the bastard, that Catelyn was not there making sure the event was brushed over. He was going against a trueborn son and the grandson of the Lord of Winterfell, of course there would be after effects. But he had hoped that all his work in framing the spice merchant (not that the man hadn’t seemed inclined to do just this) would at least mean that the little half-blood and the dragonspawn bastard were gone. Too bad Varys had worked too fast, or he would have planted the connection to the Lannisters and then finally the war would have broken. But, again, no such luck.

An innkeeper was taking the stand now, a witness he had successfully bought. It was good to have so many people owing him money.

“Clarence came to the tavern, he did,” the big, burly, innkeeper told. “He said he was losing money, that he would end up losing the store. The tavern was too full, Yer Grace, I dinna hear everything he was saying. He was full of wine, and good wine mind you. He said ‘twas Lord Stark’s fault, that he was losing his store and his family was going poor. He had hoped to marry his son off to a silk merchant’s daughter, that would have been good business, but the silk merchant took the offer away when the store begun going under. He said he would show Lord Stark how messing with other people’s sons was fun.”

The merchant’s wife begun crying loudly and Court begun whispering.

“Lies!” Clarence called, stepping forward and trying to walk towards the throne, but the guards went to him, holding him back. “All lies! I’m innocent!”

Robert called for silence, but a mess had been installed. Several smallfolk who had come to attend, merchants and alike, started to argue on the veracity of the witness while the lords called for the guilty verdict to come already.

Suddenly, several yells and screams sprung. Everyone in the throne room turned to where Ella and her ladies stood, the guards unsheathing their swords. But the threat had been taken care of. Silver loomed over the man he had tackled over, his teeth bared as he snarled.

Littlefinger bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling. He had expected the assassin would fail, the throne room was too filled with guards and Lady Stark too protected for him to succeed. But the direwolf’s arrival… it would turn the entire Court against the Starks.

Jory sheathed his sword and Silver stepped back, still facing down the man, and sat down in front of Ella as the Captain of the Guard pocketed the dagger, took the would-be assassin from the ground, and handed him over to the Gold Cloaks, who immediately took him outside.

“An atrocity!” a Westerlands lord standing right next to Ella called. “An attempt against the safety of the Red Keep, Your Grace! To have this beast here!”

Silver merely looked at him with too intelligent charcoal eyes and the man took a step back. He then turned his predator’s eyes to the spice merchant, brought to his knees when he begun to yell.

“I should point out,” Ned said from the dais, “that the wolf did no harm to anyone. Not even the man who came to murder my lady wife. My _pregnant_ lady wife. He merely removed the threat. I fail to see how he is a threat to anyone of good will inside the Red Keep.”

Nobody had an argument against that.

“Forget the wolf!” Robert exclaimed, though it was no easy feat, considering Silver was the size of a small horse and the sun coming in through the windows reflected off his fur. “We are here for an important reason. You, merchant! You have heard and seen all the evidence against you…”

“I am innocent!” Clarence called again.

“Never interrupt your King, scum!” Ser Boros called from the steps where he and Ser Preston stood. But Robert waved it away in his usual impatience.

“The poison was found in packages from your store, a poison you sell; we have a witness that places you threatening Lord Cregan and Lord Addam; and you have a strong motive,” the King listed. “For this reason, I, Robert of the House Baratheon, First of My Name, King of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, find you guilty of attempted murder and I sentence you to death.”

Littlefinger nearly did smile now. The spice merchant was inconsequential, but by the way the soon-to-be window was wailing and the smallfolk’s indignation, House Stark was now hated in the city. Especially because there was the second part of the sentence: compensation for the lord’s troubles.

But then he narrowed his eyes minutely. Ned Stark stepped closer to the throne and was whispering with Robert. The King seemed to be a bit unfavourable to what was being said, but the Northerner insisted and finally he nodded. He signalled and the herald hit his staff on the ground, calling for silence.

“The Lord Hand has advocated for the idea that the son cannot be held accountable to the sins of the father,” Robert said. “Therefore, I call his son forward.” A young man, of sixteen or seventeen, stepped up and stopped before the throne, visibly scared. “Very well, were you aware of your father’s crimes, before or after it happened?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“Did your father threaten Lord Stark, in any occasion, or even said anything against him?” The boy swallowed dry. “Lying to your King is treason!”

“I only heard that… I'm sorry, Father,” the boy looked behind himself, “he only said in front of me that all our problems were Lord Stark’s fault. I never knew of any plots.”

Robert looked at Ned, rolling his eyes when his friend merely nodded. “Alright. Therefore, the Iron Throne shall hold back the second part of the sentence prescribed in these cases. You will take your father’s place and you may keep your store as long as you pay all the taxes due.”

The boy bowed, going to his knees in thanks. Court begun whispering again, gossip flowing. Littlefinger now wanted to curse: this gesture of goodwill, by the reaction of the smallfolk, had won the damned Starks their good graces again. All this fucking effort for nothing!

“The gallows will be built and he will hang—”

“If I may, Your Grace, make a request,” Ned said. Robert looked at him with a raised brow. “His crime was ultimately against the North. I would ask to fulfil your sentence in the Northern way.”

“Granted,” the King said. “Have the King’s Justice—”

“Your Grace, forgive my intrusion,” Lord Manderly said from where the Small Council was gathered. “But in the North, our way is the old way. His life is Lord Stark’s to take.”

Court rose in gossip again and Littlefinger held back laughter at a great cost. Barbarians! But it was good, in the end. People would come to see them for what they were, a bunch of uncivilised people that did not belong in the capital!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The morning of her name day came with a lot of anxiety for Catelyn. There had been no message from Ned regarding whether or not the children would visit, so her stomach was in knots over it. That and, after Ned’s visit and his questions, she had some questions of her own, but to someone different. Finally, Septa Unella came to fetch her and, by the older woman’s displeased face, it wasn’t her children that expected her.

“I kept it simple,” Petyr said, offering her the little box once the Septa reluctantly left them alone. “I know Septa Unella would confiscate it otherwise.”

Catelyn smiled, thanking him, and opened the velvet box. She hadn’t worn any jewellery in years. She hadn’t been able to take any of the Stark family pieces with her to Riverrun and Ned had never cared to give one piece to her personally, merely allowing her use of the ones already in the family. And her father obviously didn’t allow her to bring anything from Riverrun. Not even her mother’s heirlooms, her rights as eldest daughter. At least they hadn’t gone to Lysa either. Perhaps she should write and request them go to Sansa? Maybe it would work to close the gap between them.

And her name day gift wasn’t as sumptuous or grand as the ones she had one day worn. However, Petyr had chosen perfectly, for the Septa would indeed confiscate anything she viewed as representative of greed. The necklace was delicate, simple, yet elegant. A silver piece with a seven pointed star.

“Thank you, Petyr, it is lovely.”

He smiled. “You are a dear friend, Cat. It gladdens me to put a smile on your face.”

“I need to ask you something,” she said, after he had helped her put the necklace on. “I received a visit a couple of days ago.”

“Oh? Your children? How wonderful!”

“No,” Catelyn’s lips trembled. “The children haven’t come yet. It was Ned who came to see me.”

Petyr stiffened. How had he not heard of this before? “Really?” he asked cautiously. “And what did the Lord Hand want? I presume it had something to do with the spectacle we witnessed in Court yesterday. A trial over the attempted murder of his half-breed son,” he explained as Catelyn seemed confused.

“Oh. So it seems he found a name by himself.”

“He suspected you?” Petyr asked.

“He said he hoped I was not involved. And I wasn’t, obviously. But his suspicion of me came from a past event,” she said and now Littlefinger wanted to curse. “I never considered it true, in fact I had even forgotten about it. But the pouch found in the children’s cradles. That maid claimed it was identical to one she found in the bastard’s cradle many years ago.”

“That maid?” Petyr asked. He had known Catelyn had dismissed the event, that the pouch had never been found, which had been why he had decided to go with the same poison — an interesting way to kill babies as far as he was concerned. “You mean the bastard’s nurse? I thought… I mean, your letter… you made it sound… I thought I had helped you get rid of her.”

“You did, you did,” Catelyn said. “Your counsel was good and I managed to send her away from Winterfell when the bastard was a toddler. But it seems she had been a maid to his mother and the foolish woman decided to return after a few years. Of course, I had better things to keep in mind than the face of a nobody maid, so I didn’t recognise her and gave her a job as a laundry maid. And ironically, she was the one who told Ned about how I kept clothes and such from the bastard.”

“So Lord Stark would take the word of a laundry maid and suspect his former wife of something so heinous?” Petyr asked.

“Speaking up against me, saying she mended the bastard torn clothes, all that convinced Ned that she _cared_ for the boy. Which made Ned name her the Starling housekeeper and gods know why, Benjen fell in love with her. She is Lady Crystark now.”

Littlefinger cursed mentally. So _that_ was why. The bastard’s nurse, the one who had stopped his murder six-and-ten years ago had risen to Ned Stark’s good-sister and therefore had not only been in a position to interfere again (when Petyr had thought she had been dealt with), but had been in a position to be believed and heard.

“Petyr, I am so sorry, but I must ask. No one would have cause… I know you would only ever act with my best interests at heart. And whatever happened now, I'm sure Ned has angered enough people now that he is Hand, but the bastard… who would have cause to murder him when he was still a babe? Other than someone trying to defend my honour?”

“Cat… I can’t deny that the thought had crossed my mind. To defend your good name, to erase the stain on your honour. But back then I had _just_ been made Master of Coin. I didn’t have this influence yet. I didn’t have enough connections to reach into Winterfell’s nursery, not when my life was in the south and Winterfell is so far away. But think, Cat. I can think of someone who would benefit from it: the Lannisters.”

“The Lannisters? Why? Why would they want to kill Ned’s bastard? I mean, now that he is a lord and found a few mines I can see it happening, but back when he was nothing but a bastard baby?”

“A bastard baby already betrothed to the last Targaryen princess, Cat. Daenerys was always going to be a threat to Robert, a threat only our King doesn’t see. Now Robert thinks she has been declawed, raised with good morals by his best friend and married to a loyal man who puts her in her place.”

Catelyn snorted. “That girl has no concept of her proper place in the world. She fancies herself too important. She never learnt that her place is to serve her lord husband.”

“You did your best, Cat, but some people just won't learn,” Petyr said with a smile. “But the point is: she is, and always has been, a threat to the throne. Robert wanted to laugh, to get his revenge on Targaryens by making her marry a bastard, by disgracing and shaming her.”

“He failed,” Catelyn sneered. “The girl is only too happy in her castle with her bastard husband and their bastard children.”

“Yes, she is. If Tywin Lannister had been here, if he had been able to interfere before the betrothal was set, he would never have allowed it. He would have buried the girl here in the sept, to make sure she would be forgotten by the world. That she would neither be a threat to Robert’s reign nor be able to continue the Targaryen dynasty. If the bastard were killed in his cradle, the betrothal was unmade and then the Lannisters could interfere and make sure Robert would not make the same mistake again.”

“Oh. I hadn’t… I had never thought about it like that. To think that she only lived because the boy did…”

“It’s done now, Cat.

“They have a son now, Ned told me. So, House Starling has heirs.”

“Cat… if you want to know something…”

“I just want to make sure Robb is still the heir to Winterfell! That… _woman_ had a son!”

Petyr sighed. “Lord Cregan was announced as Lord of Moat Cailin, so at least in that Lord Stark made things right.”

Catelyn narrowed her eyes. “And what else are you not telling me?”

“Oh, Cat…” Petyr bit back a satisfied grin, anxious to see her reaction but putting on a face of regrettable reluctance. “Lord Stark announced at the trial yesterday. She is pregnant again.”

Catelyn felt a weight in her stomach. Even before she was banished from Winterfell, she had had four years since Rickon and hadn’t gotten pregnant. Now this _wench_ , coming from gods know where, with gods know what family, she was at least as old as Catelyn — probably older, because she did look a bit wrinkled — and had gotten pregnant again before her half-breed spawn had reached his first name day! She felt her eyes fill with tears, but before she could excuse herself back to her room to cry on her pillow, the door opened again. She sobbed and let the tears go.

“Rickon! Sansa! Arya! You came!”

“Mother,” Sansa greeted stiffly. Arya was looking to the side, refusing to face her mother as they, Jory, and Bertha walked inside.

“Mama!” Rickon exclaimed and rushed to her. “I missed you, Mama!”

Catelyn drew him into a tight hug. “Oh, let me look at you! You are so grown up! Oh, my sweet boy, it has been so long!”

“Not long enough,” Arya muttered.

“Arya!” Sansa admonished at the same time Bertha exclaimed: “Little lady!”

“You heard Father,” the eldest girl continued. “You have to behave.” The youngest merely huffed.

“I’m just… I’m so happy you’re here, children!” Catelyn said, deciding to take it by small steps. It seemed Arya’s bad manners hadn’t improved at all. “I missed you! And your brothers! I mean, Bran and Robb!”

“You forgot Jon and Cregan, Mother!” Rickon said, innocently, making the room freeze in awkward silence. “They are our brothers too.”

“Mother doesn’t agree with that, do you, Mother?” Arya asked after a moment.

“Arya!” Sansa spoke through her teeth. “I will tell Father and you know what will happen!”

“I think I will take my leave, Lady Catelyn,” Petyr said, sensing the awkwardness and wishing to be as far away as possible. “Leave you to enjoy your children.”

“Girls,” Catelyn started once he was gone. “Our last conversation… it didn’t end well, exactly.”

“You mean when—” Arya started.

“It did not, Mother,” Sansa cut in. “But, as Father reminded us, it has been nearly two years since then.”

“So Father forced us to come here—”

“Father _asked_ us to come here and talk. He told us that you had recognised the error of your ways.”

“Well, I said I didn’t want to come, so I would say I was forced,” Arya muttered. “I’d much rather be with Ella choosing wedding decorations.”

“We-wedding decorations?” Catelyn mumbled.

“Oh.” Sansa was shocked. “We thought… we never…”

“Robb is getting married,” Arya revealed without care.

“To Margaery Tyrell, I was told,” Catelyn said. “I just didn’t realise… that it was so soon.” She swallowed dry. Her firstborn, her eldest son, and there was a stranger, a common woman handling the details of his wedding.

“Mama, can you tell me a story? Like you used to?” Rickon said.

“Of course,” Catelyn said with a weak smile.

Rickon seemed clueless as to what had pushed her away from her family, but while Sansa seemed to be making an effort, Arya was unreachable. It shouldn’t be surprising, really, since her youngest daughter had always been so close to the bastard. Arya was still too irreverent, not giving much thought to propriety. Oh, but how Catelyn had prayed that would change! That she would grow up and come to find her place as a lady!

“Sansa, you’re not wearing your dragonflies anymore?” Catelyn asked, noticing the necklace her daughter was wearing.

“At least our last talk was worth for something,” Arya said, again earning herself new reprimands.

“I’m a Stark of Winterfell,” Sansa said simply, touching the pendant.

The wolf glinted in the torchlight, silver with an encrusted amethyst for an eye. Catelyn would need to ask the reason for the choice of stone. Later. Right now, her youngest son wanted a story.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Gendry was coming back from delivering the latest pieces he had produced when he saw Lord Tarly inspecting his work table.

“My lord! Can I help you with something?”

“Oh? Ah, yes, yes, I came to drop by the new order of weapons and armour for the forge. I’m sorry, I ended up nosing about.”

“I did it on my own free time, milord,” the smith said nervously. “And those are scraps of metal, wouldn’t become anything that—”

“Gendry, I’m not mad,” Sam cut in. “I’m intrigued, rather.”

“In-intrigued, milord?”

“Curious,” Sam fixed. “Why are you making letters?”

“Oh. I… I hope it won’t be overstepping, milord. Only Lady Arya arranged with Bernarr to teach a few of us to read. I was… I was practising, I suppose. I thought Lady Crystark would know.”

“Yes, yes, she mentioned, I just never thought to ask who was being taught. May I?” he pointed to the metal pieces and Gendry only nodded, still a bit worried about his reaction.

But Sam only handled the pieces and then opened a smile.

“Say, Gendry, I know how skilled a smith you are. You are a master of detail. So, how small can you make these letters?”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery turns 16 with a sweet gift and people start their journeys to the capital for the wedding. Meanwhile, Ned entertains a guest in King's Landing.

Varys watched from his window the comings and goings of the courtyard bellow. It was a way to keep an eye on things, certainly, but not the most effective. Nothing was more efficient than his little birds running around the city, across Westeros and Essos in fact. He watched as Littlefinger got out of his litter and came inside the castle. It hadn’t been hard, hours ago, to discover where he was headed: from the direction he had taken and knowing the date, it had been only too easy. Dates were very interesting, Varys had found out a while ago. He was certain Catelyn Tully would disagree with him on this point, though. But that wasn’t the point. The point was wondering what the Master of Coin was up to.

From the moment he had discovered Princess Lyanna had perished in childbed, soon after the arrival of her brother, he had wondered. It hadn’t taken much of a leap to ascertain the baby’s identity once Ned Stark had arrived in the capital, claiming him as his bastard. Varys had feared people would question it, had even devised a plan to get the boy smuggled out, but no one even batted an eye. Perhaps he was too perceptive in comparison to the common people or perhaps not knowing the Princess carried a child — nor that she had been raised to princess at all — made people unable to even imagine such a possibility. And as it were, the heir to the Iron Throne, the rightful and lawful King, went safely to Winterfell, betrothed to a Targaryen no less — and Robert had thought he had laughed last on that matter.

But Varys had kept an ear out. Perhaps someone would make the leap or perhaps people would want to get Daenerys interred in the sept and, since Robert had had her betrothed, the easiest way would be to unmake the betrothal and push her in with the Silent Sisters before Robert could betrothed her to anyone else. As Robert would never go back on his word, the only way to unmake the betrothal would be to kill either Daenerys Targaryen or Jon Snow. Anyone with a brain would go for the bastard, not the princess. Varys had unmade at least eight attempts from Casterly Rock, but he had been expecting Tywin Lannister would act to neutralise the most obvious potential threat to his daughter and grandchildren. He had cursed loudly when he had heard about the near miss when Jon Snow was but a baby — he had been so worried about tracking assassins from the west that someone from the east had slipped by. And it hadn’t taken him long to track it to the whorehouse and, from there, to Littlefinger. That soothed him a bit: if Littlefinger suspected the boy’s true identity, he wouldn’t have sent an assassin by himself, on his own money; he would have told Robert or Tywin Lannister and let them deal with the issue. Lord Tywin, more likely, as Robert would be unwilling to believe Ned Stark capable of such betrayal. It was likely one of Lord Baelish’s attempts to win favour with Catelyn Tully, as it was no secret to anyone that he was deeply in love with her.

Therefore, when Lord Stark had written about what had happened in Winterfell’s nursery, Varys didn’t have to think long to have a suspect. It was the same poison, the same cruel and unorthodox method used against Jon Starling. But why had Littlefinger acted now? Catelyn Tully was long disgraced and even so, it would have been easier to reach Cregan Stark when they were in the capital, when there were more people to blame and it was closer and cheaper to send men. He also doubted the Master of Coin would have trouble to reach into the Midnight Fortress, so why waste time and money in sending men as far as Winterfell? And what was the cause?

_Chaos is a ladder_ , Littlefinger had been kind enough to share, elucidating quite a number of things. Chaos indeed. And the easiest way to drive Westeros into chaos right now was to pitch Starks against Lannisters. But Lord Baelish was good. He had to be, to rise from a nobody boy from the Vale to Master of Coin. Varys suspected him because he kept his eyes and ears opened and his memory was capable of keeping to small details of events long gone by. But he had left to piece, no crumble left to follow. Well, not one that led to him. They all pointed to the poor spice merchant. So Varys had decided against telling the Starks about Littlefinger’s involvement. Ned Stark would call for his head and Robert would undoubtedly believe him, but Lord Baelish was too true to his chaotic ways. Better not tempt fate just yet.

However, that meant that his promise to Illyrio to get the restoration underway would have to wait just a bit longer. Varys couldn’t set a plan in motion until he knew exactly where everyone stood. Besides, Illyrio’s concerns were based on the Iron Bank calling in the Crown’s debt because trade was going down. With Ned Stark’s plan to raise money for the Treasury, the issue was solved.

Watch and listen, that was what would be best for now. Watch and listen and, in the mean time, Jon and Daenerys Targaryen would add to their number of heirs and grow their army and their navy and even grow richer with their mines. Patience was indeed a virtue.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon was in his solar, pouring over reports from the mines, when Maester Wolkan came.

“A raven, my lord. From King's Landing. It has your lord father’s seal.”

“Thank you, Maester. Oh, Maester, Lord Tarly brought to my attention that my sister, the Lady Arya, had arranged for a few friends to have reading lessons from your assistant.”

“She did indeed, my lord. I hope it was not overstepping.”

“No, not at all. I merely meant to ask, is it taking the man from his duties?”

“No, my lord, and he assures me he holds the lessons at times that won’t clash with the servants’ duties either.”

“Good. Lady Starling brought a good point to attention, though. Lord Tarly said one of the servants being taught is one of our smiths and that, prior to this, Lord Tarly had to send symbols to the forge saying what was being ordered. Lady Starling pointed out that it would be more efficient if the Master Smith knew how to read, as Gendry now does.”

“I see, my lord. Your idea, then, is to expand the group of people having lessons?”

“Not by much,” Jon said. “But if we had one person in each area that could read, it would certain make things easier, wouldn’t it? It is the same thing we needed to do at the harbour, teach one soldier in each shift to make sure ravens could bring messages quickly from there to the Fortress instead of having the messenger take an hours-long trip sailing up-river, communicating, waiting for a decision, and then hours again down-river. If, for example, the Head Cook could read, then Lady Starling or Lady Crystark could simply send a message by any servant passing by rather than ask said servant to go down to the kitchens and summon the cook, take the woman from her work to come all the way to the family wing.”

“The idea has merit, of course, my lord. Should I make a list of people who would benefit from such?”

“Aye, Maester, thank you. And make sure you include a few people from high in the mines, Master Grus is complaining about his workload and I'm sure a couple of literate assistants might solve the problem.”

The Maester nodded and bowed, leaving the room. Jon ripped the seal and opened the scroll. Then he exhaled, a weight lifted from his back, and went in search of his wife. After a few moments, one of the guards finally sent him on the way to the seamstress.

“Wow!” he exclaimed when he saw Dany standing on the little stool. “You look…”

“Stop, Jon, it isn't even finished yet.”

“Where are you planning to wear this?”

Dany sighed, trailing her fingers over the silk. “Sam and Gilly’s wedding. I had thought… I decided red wouldn’t be the best choice for Robb and Margaery’s wedding.”

“No, most likely not,” Jon said. “Not so sure it will be a good choice for here, either.”

“Which is why I'm wearing red and _blue_ not red and black. That’s enough daring, I think.”

“Wait, but have Sam and Gilly set the date for their wedding?” Jon asked, trying to remember if his friend had mentioned anything. “I thought it was still an abstract idea!”

“Sam loves her, Gilly loves him, why wait? I might have done some nagging. And no, they haven’t set the date. But a dress fit to attend a wedding does not get done overnight, so I'm taking a head start,” Dany set and Jon chuckled. “Why are you here, exactly?”

“Perhaps Lord Starling decided to pay me the compliment of allowing me to do my work?” Kira said, looking up from Dany’s hem. “I barely have the set of the clothes for Lord Robb’s wedding and they won’t get ready overnight neither.”

“Oh, I… no, Kira, I actually…”

“Actually, whatever it is you came to tell me, you can tell me as you go try on the clothes. Once Kira is done with my hem, you can take my place.”

“Dany,” Jon whined. “I mean…”

“Jon, your brother is the heir to the North and he is getting married to the daughter of the Warden of the South and Lord Paramount of the Reach, in the Sept of Baelor, no less, with the whole realm and even the King attending. You are _not_ wearing your everyday clothes. If it makes you feel better, Ella annoyed Robb on the matter while we were in Winterfell, because she knew once they were gone to the capital there would be no lady in the castle to persuade him.”

Jon grumbled, thinking that it didn’t make him feel better at all, but accepted the clothes another seamstress was giving him. He knew his lady wife was right and that it would be easier to just do it now rather than keep putting it off. Besides, if Aunt Ayla heard about it, she would join the pestering and, as it had happened in Rickard’s pregnancy, being with child made her three times as much of a fusser than usual. So he just gave Dany the raven scroll and went behind the screen to change.

 

_My dear son,_

_I write to inform you that Lord Varys found sufficient evidence on the nursery attack against a spice merchant here from the capital, a man named Clarence. He had cause, because I cut the corruption and he fell on financial problems. The King held a trial this morning and the man was found guilty. Northern justice was done in the afternoon. I hope everyone is well over there!_

_Love,_

_Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, Warden of the North, and Hand of the King_

 

“Good,” Dany said. “It should at least send a message to the next mad person who wants to send an assassin to the North.”

“In what is up to Rellos and Addam, if someone else sends an assassin to the North they will die in agony after failing to reaching the family,” Jon said, coming out from behind the screen.

“Even better,” Dany said, taking his hand to step down from the stool. “Kira, what about the clothes for next week’s feast?” she asked, going behind the screen.

“Patrik picked up Lord Starling’s this morning — I’d’ve kept them had I known you’d stop by, milord. Yours are in the other room, milady, I’ll have them brought to you.”

“I still want to know how you convinced Aunt Ayla to allow you to throw a feast,” Jon said. “She loves to fuss over us, but hates it when the fuss is about her.”

“Well, every woman has her secrets. I only told her that in this family we celebrate everyone’s name day and she was part of the family, therefore we were celebrating hers as well. It didn’t take that much convincing.”

Jon chuckled, deciding he didn’t want to know. Then Kira begun prodding him with her needles and he sighed.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Margaery laughed, utterly delighted. Since it was her name day, breakfast had been turned into a family party and her brothers were doing a superb job in keeping everyone entertained.

“Sister, sister, sister!” Garlan called and she turned to him, noticing the servant standing next to him, obviously having just given him a message. “Your betrothed couldn’t be here today, but he set up this amazing gift to you and asked for my help in delivering it. It’s waiting down in the courtyard but here is his letter.”

Margaery smiled, getting the parchment from Garlan, who had a huge smile, so she deduced Robb had indeed gotten her something she would enjoy. She ripped the grey direwolf seal with eager fingers.

 

_My beloved,_

_I eagerly await and count down the days until we are married. The closer it gets, the more anxious I am, and it shames me not to say it. I thought long and hard about what to gift you on this most special day, your sixteenth name day, and I reached the conclusion that my poor taste would never be capable of choosing a dress worthy of your beauty and I didn’t want to rely on my lady stepmother or lady sisters; then I thought I would have a lifetime to give you as many jewels as you deserve. Finally, I thought to give you something we shall both enjoy immensely in our new life, together in Winterfell. I hope it pleases you._

_Happy name day, my beloved, my own heart. I can’t wait until we are reunited in King’s Landing,_

_All my love,_

_Lord Robb of House Stark_

 

“What is it?” she asked Garlan.

“Come and see, little sister. I think you will like it.”

“Oh, let us all go,” Olenna said, standing from her seat at the table. “No use in keeping the suspense!”

They all went down to the courtyard then and Margaery was feeling her stomach bubbling with anticipation. There, she gasped once the small group opened the way to her.

“Gods! This is…” she smiled, remembering Robb’s words: ‘we shall both enjoy it immensely in our new life’. She could imagine it now, the green rolling planes Robb had described, spreading in front of them as they rode away. Her gift was a horse, a well-bred one from the looks of it.

“That’s a Dornish racing horse,” Willas said, smiling. “They are sturdy and reliable, but among the fastest in the Kingdoms!”

“Robb said they had one in Winterfell as he grew up,” Margaery said as she came closer, petting the horse’s neck. “It was the stud who fathered Lord Starling’s and Robb’s horses and those are some of the fastest ones I have ever seen.”

“I think that’s a way of saying he intends to go riding with you, sister,” Loras said.

“Good. He intends to spend time with you, my love, rather than come to fulfil his husbandly duties at night and forget you during the days,” Olenna said, very happy and satisfied. “He will be a good husband, I think.”

Margaery only smiled. She agreed with her grandmother.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Margaery watched the servants carry the trunks out of her chambers with mixed feelings. It was not the first time she left Highgarden, but it was the first time she was leaving without knowing when she would return — if she ever would. After all, Winterfell was quite far away to simply make visits and, being deep inland, she couldn’t even rely on the swiftness of ships.

Seeing her chambers unmade… it was different than taking a few clothes and small belongings. Everything she cared for had been packed in the trunks, along with her bride’s trousseau, and the maids had even stripped the bed already. The bedchamber didn’t look hers anymore, just one more room in the castle.

It was the first step of the end of Margaery Tyrell and she was so nervous. What if she didn’t like being Margaery Stark? What if, regardless of what fondness they shared now, she and Robb grew apart and she started to hate her life? Marriages were forever, there was no escaping from an unwanted husband. Or if there was, as her soon-to-be good-mother was proof of, the alternative was not desirable.

She fingered the direwolf pendant on her necklace, trying to calm her nerves. She was bringing a few cousins as her ladies and, she was certain, she would make friends in Winterfell. And Grandmother was right: her name day gift showed Robb had put thought and effort into her happiness and, more than that, that he really wanted them to spend time together.

Taking a deep breath, she took her cloak from the armchair and left the room, making sure to pull the door close behind her. It was time to take the leap and start a new chapter in her life.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

All the adults laughed at Lyanna’s disappointed face when Sam opened the package.

“You don’t like books?” Sam asked. “Look, this one is about the History of the Seven Kingdoms!”

“Books are boring,” the girl said. “I like horseys!”

“Well, Sam likes books, Lya,” Jon said and she shrugged.

“Do you know how the kingdoms became one realm, Lya?” Sam asked, putting the book carefully away.

“Aye!” she exclaimed excitedly. “My an… anen… some old family of Mamma’s came in dwagons! And they told all the old kings to become only one castle! It’s the old red castle where gwanpa works now.” The adults laughed again. It was a good childish version of history, but then again Lyanna was only two years old. “Mamma, when my dwagon will clack, Mamma? I want to fly too!”

“There hasn’t been a dragon flying in a very long time, Lya,” Daenerys said. “The eggs haven’t cracked in a long, long, long time.”

“The eggs are only stone now, little love,” Ayla said.

“No, Auntie. My egg is live, I know it,” Lyanna said. “I can feel the dwagon in there. But she is sleeping.”

“Your dragon is a girl dragon?” Jon asked with a smile.

“Of course, Papa! Boys are boring too!”

“Keep thinking like that for the next twenty years, little love,” Jon said, getting more chuckles from the gathered adults.

“Sam, can you tell me the stowy again?”

“How about we help Sam finish opening his name day gifts, Lya?” Dany asked.

“Any of the gifts is a horsey, Mamma?”

The adults laughed again. Little Sam was down for a nap but Little Addam and Rickard were practising their baby steps across the room where Benjen and Addam were watching them. Finally, it seemed they tired because they just sat down and the men brought them over to where the others gathered.

“Well, actually,” Sam said. “Now that we are all here, I wanted to…” he cleared his throat. “I wanted to make an announcement. You see… well…”

“Just say it already, Sam,” Gilly smiled and prodded him.

“Alright, alright, you’re right. Well, I don’t think this will surprise anyone, much less Dany and Ayla,” Sam said as his cheeks blushed deeply, “but Gilly and I have decided to get married!”

There was loud cheering.

“I’m so happy for you!” Dany said. “It’s about time! We haven’t had a wedding ever since Uncle Benjen and Aunt Ayla!”

“I never gone to a wedding!” Lyanna said, jumping onto Gilly’s lap.

“Well,” the bride said with a smile, “if you would like that, and your parents agree, Sam tells me in southern weddings there’s always a little girl who brings the flowers.”

“Oh, I can do it! Can I? Can I, Mamma? Pwease?”

“Well if you behave, I don’t see why not,” Dany said. “But that will mean that Kira will have to make a special dress for you.”

Lyanna frowned, as if that part was disagreeable. But then she smiled. “It is fine. Sam and Gilly deserve a special dress!”

The adults laughed again as Jon called for drinks to toast the announcement.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Maester Marwyn followed the young squire down the corridors to Lord Stark’s solar. He had arrived at the capital on the day before, though since it was late afternoon Lord Stark had insisted on only meeting this morning. It wasn’t in Marwyn to waste time, but the messenger sent to welcome him had been insistent, saying that the Lord Hand had already retired for the day with his lady wife and children, so the Archmaester was left with no option but to wait.

“Welcome to King's Landing, Archmaester,” Ned said. “Thank you for travelling so far, but I did not think it was a matter to be treated in letters.”

“Certainly not, my lord. The waste of time alone…” he shivered. “Only those with nothing to do waste their time, my lord, and I am no such man.”

“Then we agree on this, Archmaester,” Ned said. “There are two matters that we must treat with all haste. Maester Luwin said you could be trusted regarding the… well…”

“He sent me a small transcription of Maester Walys’ journal. I must say… We can’t wish the impossible, my lord, but I do wish it could be different.”

“Thank you.”

“And I would, of course, be most willing to help you get rid of the grey sheep.”

“The grey sheep?”

“Oh, yes,” the Archmaester said and rolled his eyes. “The fools that wear the grey robes of a maester, their chains, but do not honour their vows. Or they honour some sort of other foolishness. They are not interested in _knowledge_. They are interested in the knowledge they care about. In the world they want, as they want it. And that world, my lord, it has no place in it for sorcery or prophecy or glass candles, much less for dragons. I always knew there was something there, I just never imagined this conspiracy of theirs was so wide-spread. I knew, from the moment I first faced the backlash of studying the higher mysteries, that they were manipulating things. After all, who do you think killed all the dragons the last time around? Gallant dragonslayers armed with swords? History shows us that swords don’t fare well against fire-breathing beasts. Otherwise the Field of Fire would have ended quite differently, I believe.”

Ned took a deep breath. “As you well know, Archmaester, my good-daughter is Daenerys Targaryen. My grandchildren carry dragonblood. The grey sheep, as you call them, murdered my daughter because she was an inconvenience that would have brought House Stark close to Targaryen allies. I don’t care to understand why they haven’t sent anyone after Lady Starling or the children yet, but I will _not_ lose anyone else. I will burn down the Citadel before that happens if I must.”

“I do not take your justified rage from you, Lord Stark, though I would like to point out that, other than very few innocents, the books… I abhor the loss of any knowledge, but there is much in the Citadel that would be forever lost. It would be like the Doom all over again.”

“Of course, Archmaester. I shall keep to my sword then.”

“Very good. On that matter, there is something we must discuss. After Maester Luwin’s letter, I went searching for more information. And I came across another… _convenient_ journal. One of the High Septon in office during the Rebellion.” Ned stiffened. “It seems it isn’t only your _grandchildren_ who carry dragonblood,” Marwyn said and placed the journal on the table. “This is the original. As far as I know, I am the only who saw it, as it was still in the sealed box sent by the Sept of Baelor after the High Septon’s death. But in case you need proof.” Ned looked down at the little book as if it would sprout fangs and attack him. “I myself am interested in dragons and glass candles and prophecies, my lord. So you don’t need to worry. But you said you had two matters. What is the second one?”

“I ah…” Ned cleared his throat. “It’s about my recent journey to Castle Black. My sons went beyond the Wall and found things… As you said, the grey sheep in the Citadel will disregard it and try to call it untrue.”

“Beyond the Wall? But you can’t… You mean the White Walkers?”

“Aye, Archmaester. White Walkers and their foot soldiers, wights. And from reports from the Free Folk, they are moving south. I must prepare the realm for their inevitable attack.”

“Oh… but… truly?” Marwyn asked and Ned nodded, though he was uncomfortable with the look in the man’s eye. Death was marching south to annihilate them all and the Archmaester was excited! “Well, obviously that presents a number of difficulties, but the White Walkers… you know, Lord Stark, I have deeply studied tales from the Long Night, all its lore and even the prophecies about it. And to think…” Marwyn smiled slowly. Oh, the prophecy! It was coming to life before their very eyes! How amazing! “But the Wall… it was built to keep them out, was it not?”

“Archmaester, you just spoke of what history shows us. And what history shows me is that there is no obstacle that is unsurmountable to a motivated person. This Night King is moving south and I doubt he will content himself with stopping at the Wall, especially now that the Free Folk are crossing south. I would rather prepare for the eventuality of the Wall coming down than be caught unawares when it does. The North is my land and is under my protection and they will fall first if the dead cross the Wall.”

“You are absolutely right, my lord. What is it you need of me?”

“Putting it blankly, Archmaester, I need your wisdom and research skills. Maester Aemon has too many books at Castle Black and no eyes to read them, nor a literate assistant to aid him. So far, we know of three ways to defeat wights: fire, dragonglass, and Valyrian steel, but only the latter two will work against White Walkers, who can freeze the fire and shatter common steel with their bare hands. We need to find other ways to combat them. Lord Starling has a reserve of dragonglass in his mines, which he is already mining, but it would be better if we could find more reserves.”

“Dragonglass is a volcanic glass, Lord Stark. Find a volcano and you will find dragonglass. But if I were you, I would write to the Citadel. Ask the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch to do the same. Maester Aemon and I can both supply you with a few trustworthy names to go up there. I, of course, will be going to meet with Aemon and see it with my own eyes. But before that, however, I would like to peruse the Royal Library. Targaryens kept several Valyrian books and they viewed books as a source of knowledge but also a sign of status and prestige, so they were never shy of purchasing more.”

“I am certain the Grand Maester will welcome you, Archmaester.”

“Well, I am certain he won’t.” Marwyn laughed. “Pycelle is a snobbish cunt, if you will forgive my bluntness, Lord Stark. Oh, he is deep in this conspiracy, of that I have no doubt, and we were never the grandest of friends. But he will put up with me, if only to spy on me. I should like to meet with your sons as well.”

“They should be on their way to the capital soon,” Ned said. “My heir, Lord Robb, is getting married to Lady Margaery Tyrell in a few weeks. You would be most welcome at the ceremony, of course, Archmaester.”

Marwyn chewed his lips for a moment, thinking. He did hate to waste time, but then a trip to Winterfell would take longer and would be of absolutely no use if Robb Stark would be gone by the time he arrived.

“Very well,” he said, “I shall stay and research the royal library until your sons arrive, Lord Stark, and then I can go to Aemon. I should think he and I have a lot to talk about.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oberyn has some interesting things to say and finally everyone arrives in King's Landing.

Once Archmaester Marwyn took his leave, Ned sat back on his desk, staring at the journal he had brought. Addam had warned him so many times that this would come back to haunt him! And the foolish High Septon, to leave such an information out in the open where anyone could find it! For a man who had sworn to secrecy in the name of the Seven, he wasn’t very true to his word. The Archmaester had left the pages bookmarked so Ned didn’t have trouble finding the evidence of the most dangerous secret in Westeros.

 

_Prince Rhaegar called me this afternoon and made me a troublesome request. But then he explained his reasons and I must say that while it hasn’t been done yet — not to my knowledge at least — it is fair and just. So it seems that the maesters have declared the Princess Elia unable to carry any more children. Even the attempt might kill her. Therefore, it is clear that the royal marriage is over. Prince Rhaegar said so himself, that they have no intention of ever sharing a bed again. And while the throne does have heirs, a son and a brother, if the Seven say that the purpose of marriage is procreation, should we allow for it once procreation is no longer viable?_

_The Princess Elia, who was present for our conversation, said this was an agreement they reached: their marriage is dead, so they would like this dissolution to be legal and final. It is true that annulments are not given like this, only when the union has not yet been consummated — and since the union has already yielded two fruits, such possibility is crossed out — or when one of the spouses has joined an order that requires a vow of celibacy. Princess Elia has made it clear that she has no intention of joining the Sept and of course we cannot consider asking the Prince of Dragonstone to give up his crown. Especially when things are in such a place where the King is no longer sound._

_However, as I thought before, if the holy purpose of a marriage is the continuation of a bloodline, why should we continue to tend and water a dead tree? Would it not be nobler to allow the Prince to find another wife and have more lawful and faithful children than to force him to live in sin? I think so. Prince Rhaegar has declared that while the marriage will be over, he intends to keep his son, the Prince Aegon, as his heir, so truly, how can refuse a sane request from a sane man? Especially when the Princess Elia is in agreement? And for this reason, I shall agree to their request and grant them their annulment._

_It is my opinion that the Princess, knowing that their marriage bed is now cold, prefers to retire with dignity than continue in Court watching her royal husband with another woman — after the incident at Harrenhall, it cannot be said that Prince Rhaegar will not look at other women. I think Princess Elia’s decision is a noble and proud one. She would give up the crown of a future queen in respect of her dignity. It is not a choice that most people would make, so I must say I commend her. She is to go to Dorne after the bureaucracy is handled and the children will go with her, but that is their own issue to handle. I shall begin drafting this annulment with haste._

 

The entry ended there and Ned turned the pages until a second bookmark, his heart beginning to race.

 

_Ser Barristan Selmy paid me the compliment of a visit this afternoon, with a message from Prince Rhaegar. So it seems that, now that I have agreed to the annulment and have shown him that I have begun to draft it, he has left the capital in search of his lady love. I was not in the least surprised when the Prince requested that I come to grant him the signed annulment and, at once, marry him to the Lady Lyanna Stark. I had thought it had been only a fling, something to happen in the heat of a tourney, when spring had been promised, but it seems not. So it looks like off to Dorne I go. The only reason I have accepted to be summoned like some paltry septon instead of the dignified High Septon that I am is because the Prince assures me that the time of his mad father and his mad designs will soon come to an end._

 

There were a lot of pages between that entry and the next bookmark, as it seemed the High Septon had a habit of recording any information he came across — such as the number of bricks on the wall of the room of an inn where he spent the night.

 

_It is done and let us now pray for the best. The marriage between Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia is officially, lawfully, and holy annulled. I signed the paper in the morning and by afternoon we were standing before a heart tree and I joined Prince Rhaegar in holy matrimony with the now Princess Lyanna. I would have liked to be in a sept, though not only there is none nearby, but the bride also insisted in honouring her own gods. The Northern tree gods, as if they were as true and binding as the Seven. But the marriage was celebrated in the Light of the Seven, so that is all that matters._

_After a small wedding breakfast for only the groom, bride, and the Kingsguards here with us, the Prince and Princess retired to their chambers to consummate the union. I must say, I at least am hopeful for a brighter future._

 

Ned was trembling by the time he got to the last bookmark.

 

_A boy came rushing into the village this morning, sent by Lord Stark, who arrived yesterday, though I was unaware. I would have returned to the Tower days ago if I had known. But who could have predicted?_

_It seems that a letter arrived for the Princess, informing her of what had happened at the Sack of King's Landing. And the heresy, to sack our capital! But, back to our tale, the news of what had happened with her husband’s children and former wife was too upsetting for Princess Lyanna, and while she was still reeling from Prince Rhaegar’s death. She was driven to early labour, then, and she perished from complications in childbed at dusk._

_To me it seems the height of irony that Robert Baratheon rebelled against the throne in the name of his beloved, all the while she hid away, married to another man and carrying his child. But that is another matter entirely._

_The newborn is already, lawfully at least, the King of the Seven Kingdoms. The maids whispered that Lord Stark promised his sister in her final moments that he would protect the boy, his nephew, but how, when he helped Robert Baratheon, his long-time friend, to take the throne? I only hope the boy, King Aegon, will be safe and not end like his older half-brother and namesake. But since Lord Stark has not let the boy out of his sights since his sister died, I believe the child will be spared, whatever might be the fate of the throne._

 

Ned sighed, putting the journal away. The truth he had spent years hiding in order to protect Jon brought to light in the careless words written by a man who couldn’t help but record every thought he ever had. If anyone were to find this journal… Jon and Daenerys were relatively safe in the Midnight Fortress, but they couldn’t withstand the attack of the combined forces Robert would summon. And that was not mentioning what would happen to himself, his wife, and children in the capital.

Autumn setting in had made it so that even in King’s Landing’s heat a warm fire would be necessary at night and, despite Ned’s protests that he didn’t care for one in his solar, the servants always made sure to keep it ready to be lit within a moment’s notice. So he stood from his chair and was nearly to the fireplace when Archmaester Marwyn’s words came back to him: “if you ever need proof”. He hesitated. Then he turned away from the fireplace and to the little hiding place Ella had carved into the stone floor exactly for the need to keep this sort of thing from prying eyes. It should be Jon’s choice what to do with this evidence.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Robb stood at his doorway, staring at the bedchamber before him. His chambers were already undergoing the process of being converted from a bachelor’s to a married lord’s. The previously unoccupied rooms were nearly finished, made into Margaery’s bedchamber, dressing room, and solar. His own bedchamber was to remain mostly unchanged — though if he was honest, he hoped he and his new wife would share the same bedchamber instead of sleeping separately.

The fact was that by the time he and Margaery returned to Winterfell, to their home, they would be married for at least a moon. And the thought scared him a bit. Would they get along well, as they did now? Or would they fizzle out, discover themselves incompatible once they begun to spend all their time together? Would they follow the fate of too many marriages across the Kingdoms, where the lord and lady spent all their time apart and only met in a few occasions, to try for heirs?

“We need to go, Robb,” Theon came to get him, “or we’ll lose daylight hours.”

“I know, I know. Let’s go.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” the ironborn asked.

“No, not second thoughts,” Robb said. “I’m just letting my mind wonder. But there’s no use to it. Come on, it’s time to go.”

“Why are you scared of marrying one of the most beautiful girls in the realm?”

Robb sighed. “You know, Theon, Jon is right. You should use your head a little more. Not everything is about cocks.”

“Says the man who’s stopped going to the whorehouse ever since your father set your betrothal in respect to a woman. You’re a man, Robb. You have needs.”

Robb rolled his eyes and grabbed his gloves, turning to leave the room. He really hoped Theon would change the subject, otherwise it would be a very long way to King’s Landing.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon double-checked Winterstorm’s saddle once more, making sure the straps to hold Lyanna in place were secure. Although he and Dany didn’t like the idea of bringing the children to King’s Landing, the attack to the Winterfell nursery made them want to have Lyanna and Little Addam nearby, even knowing that the guard on the castle had never been so tight.

“When does this little guy get his chance on a saddle?” Robb asked, coming with Little Addam perched on his shoulders.

“Aunt Ayla insisted and Dany agreed that one name day old is too young,” Jon said, smiling at his son. “So I guess only next year.”

“Though on you, little guy!” Robb said, looking up. “You get to go with the ladies.”

The boy laughed, unaware of what exactly was being denied him.

“He’ll have Rickard as company, at least,” Jon said.

“Robb, the children need to go inside the carriage now!” Dany called.

“Mamma calls you, little guy! Your time with your favourite uncle is over!” Robb said and Jon only chuckled, watching them go.

“Ser Davos says that the winds blowing south should help you get there faster,” Sam said, “so at least the voyage won’t be as long.”

“Great!” Jon chuckled. “I don’t mind the sea as much as you, but I do agree that we belong in dry land. But you look like you have something you’re scared of telling me. What is it?”

“Well, it’s just… you see… well, I got a raven today, from my mother.”

“Really? You told her about the wedding, surely?” Jon asked. He knew how much Sam cared about his mother.

“Yes, yes, I have. But you see… well, my father apparently thought nothing of it.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. But I think you’re better off without him.”

“I know that. But… well, my mother is using my father’s threatening me against him now. I’m sure he’s furious, since she was always the perfect lady wife before, but now she is showing her Florent temper. She ah…”

“Sam, if you’re hesitating because you’re worried I’ll say no, I’m going to be very cross. It’s your wedding, of course your mother is welcome! She is always welcome, but now especially!”

He exhaled in relief. “Really?”

“I’m offended now, Sam,” Jon said.

“Sorry. It’s just… it’s your castle, your home, you don’t need to put up with my guests.”

“And now I’m hurt as well. It might be my castle, Sam, but it’s _our_ home. I am very happy for you that your mother is coming to your wedding.”

“She and my sister, actually,” Sam said with a small smile. “I just didn’t want to impose.”

“Damn, Sam, now I really am worried. Am I really that scary?”

“You forget I have seen you with a sword in your hand, facing a real enemy,” Sam joked. “Yes, you are very scary.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“Meant about what?” Daenerys asked, coming closer with Lyanna.

“Lady Tarly and Lady Talla are coming for the wedding!” Jon said with a smile.

“They will probably only get here after you are back, but…” Sam started sheepishly.

“Sam!” Dany exclaimed and he stiffened. “And you only tell us now! Gods, now how will we properly prepare the castle to receive them!”

“Oh. Oh, you don’t have to…”

“Of course I must,” Dany cut in. “Come on, Lya, go with Papa! Irri, you help Lord Starling with Lady Lyanna, I will have a quick word with the steward. You go ahead, I’ll manage to catch up with the carriage.”

“Dany, you don’t need to…” Sam tried again.

“Sam,” she started, “you are a dear and you are a very capable administrator. But when it comes to hosting guests you are helpless like any other man. It will take but a moment.” And she hurried away.

“Good thing she didn’t hear the first part of our conversation,” Jon said, chuckling, as he mounted. “Come on, Lya!” She squealed in happiness and Irri helped Jon place her and fasten the straps safely. By then, Robb was next to them, also mounted. “So, Lya, what do you think, who can get to the pier first, you and Papa or Uncle Robb?”

“We, Papa! We can win!”

Jon chuckled. “What do you think, brother?”

“Oh, brother, I will take your challenge! I am only sorry for you, Lya. You will lose your first race!”

“We’ll see that!” Jon said.

“We win, Uncle! Papa is best!”

Laughing, they took their places and then kicked the horses into galloping, quickly vanishing out of sight past the gates. Sam only laughed and waved as the carriage went by him.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ella rolled her eyes when she walked into her solar and found a visitor that had made himself comfortable on one of the armchairs.

“Are you hiding from your paramour? Because the only reason you ever hid in my chambers was when you pulled one of your pranks and needed to hide from your mother,” she said, sitting at her desk.

“Wow, hello to you too! I am well, thank you for asking, and I come in peace.”

Ella sighed. “What is the crisis, Oby?”

“What is wrong with you today? You are not usually this cranky,” he said, coming to sit across from her. She glared as he put his feet up on the desk, but Oberyn only smiled, not taking them down.

“I am the groom’s stepmother and the wedding is in eleven days. The groom is not here yet, only tomorrow or the day after, but I have to deal with the Queen of Thorns complaining about everything. On top of that, I am nearly eight moons pregnant and everything hurts.”

“Right. Congratulations on the baby. I hope it is a girl. Girls are great and I am very happy I was blessed with eight of them.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “But other than being where you are _not_ expected, is there a reason why you are here?”

“Yes, actually. Though I must say your armchair is very comfortable and I had a sublime nap. So, where is your boring Northerner?”

“Jory?” Ella called loudly and the guard came in, being taken aback when he saw the man in there. “Don’t bother, Jory, Prince Oberyn has a habit of getting into where he shouldn’t be. Could you send for Lord Stark, please?”

“Of course, my lady,” he said and left quickly.

“I think your guard doesn’t like me,” Oberyn said.

“You did just break through his watch.”

They talked of nonsense for a few moments until Ned came.

“Prince Oberyn,” he greeted stiffly. “To what do we owe your visit?”

“Well, I was invited to the wedding!”

“As if you ever needed an invitation to anywhere you wanted to go,” Ella said. “And you know that is not what he meant.”

“Damn, you are cranky today!”

“Oberyn!” she exclaimed, her temper rising. “Get to the point!”

He had the nerve to chuckle. “Well, to those of you who believe in magical coincidences or divine intervention—”

“Oberyn, I have a child sitting on my bladder and kicking my ribs. I am not in the mood for your theatrics, so I swear to the Mother, say it already or—”

“Alright, alright! I happened to get to Starfall just as Corlys threw himself out the window of the Palestone Sword.”

“And I won't say I didn’t laugh about the irony. May he feed the fish and at least do some good to the world,” Ella muttered.

“Well, Edric shared the news with me and after helping him clean up the mess…”

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Ella said.

The Prince waved it away. “I was there and he is smart, so I was little more than a helping hand. Anyway, I continued on my way to Oldtown. You know I have contacts in the Citadel.” He took a journal from his pockets and laid it on the table. “This conspiracy is worse than we had imagined.”

Ned clenched his jaw. He did not need another journal that exposed the truth. But then, if that was what the journal spoke of, Oberyn would know about the annulment and he didn’t seem to be harbouring any strong emotions right now.

“How did you get this?” Ella asked.

“I told you, I have contacts at the Citadel,” Oberyn said with a shrug.

“Gods, she is one of yours, isn't she?” Ella asked. Then she chuckled. “Only a Dornish girl would have the guts! And only one of your girls would be daring enough!”

“She who?” Ned asked.

“Archmaester Marwyn’s assistant,” Ella replied and Oberyn rolled his eyes.

“But… I thought…” Ned was confused. “I thought the Archmaester had said he — or she, was an acolyte. I thought only boys… oh. Right. You mean have the guts to pretend to be a boy.”

“How did you know?” the Prince asked.

“Men are so blind sometimes!” Ella laughed. “She is good in disguise, but to an observant eye there are a few clues to be picked up on. She looks like a Summer Islander so I’m guessing… Oh, clever! _Alleras_.”

“I’m sure she will be both thrilled and upset that you saw through the disguise and congratulated her on it,” Oberyn said. “But back to the point. I didn’t really believe how far back this conspiracy went until I read this.” He pointed to the book. “This is the personal journal of Archmaester Gyldayn, he was the last maester to serve in Summerhall and a survivor of the tragedy. He wrote a few history books and his last papers have been found recently. Sarella took this out of the box in Maester Yandel’s study and gave it to me. Seems Archmaester Marwyn had told her not to go searching for it, but well, she is my daughter.”

“Why, what does it say?” Ned asked as Ella started to ruffle through the pages.

“Aegon V might have been the stupid fool who ordered the dragon eggs be put in a basin with wildfire, but that wasn’t what caused the explosion,” Oberyn said. “The maesters are the ones who set it all up. They spent a fortune bringing that explosive powder from Yi-Ti so once the basin with wildfire exploded, they exploded the rest of the palace. They always expected the egg hatching would go wrong, not that it had much chance to go right, but the whole palace only went up in flames because the maesters set it on fire.”

“Why? If they already expected the ritual to backfire?” Ned asked.

“Apparently, the ritual going wrong would kill Aegon V and perhaps Prince Duncan, since they were the ones supposed to be the closest to the basin. But the rest of the Targaryens were inside Summerhall too,” Oberyn said. “And if they could get everyone dead in a seeming accident of their own making, the throne would have gone to the Baratheons without a bloody rebellion. Much earlier and with much less death.”

“Unbelievable!” Ella gasped, reading the journal.

 

_Our plan was flawed, that is for certain. The wildfire going out of control, as we knew it would, killed King Aegon V and reached Ser Duncan the Tall as he tried to save Prince Duncan. Although the explosive powder worked and the whole of Summerhall went up in flames, we had not counted on the expediency of the Kingsguard rescuing many people but, most importantly, the now King Jaehaerys II and his son Aerys, the Prince of Dragonstone, as well as his pregnant sister-wife, the Princess Rhaella. The explosion and mess of things sent her into labour, but not even that was enough to affect the little princeling’s health. Prince Rhaegar refused to die before he could accomplish anything and bring any glory to his name. No one knows what his future holds, but for those who believe in this nonsensical mysticism, for being born amidst so much tragedy and doom, I dare say he will carry this weight throughout his years and die amidst tragedy and doom._

 

Ella set the journal on the table. “This is only getting worse! How many innocent people weren’t killed in that tragedy? All for the greed of a group of men?”

“Everything that happens anywhere only happens because of the greed of someone, usually men,” Oberyn said. “Summerhall was the spectacle that showcased the weakness of Targaryens, Ella. Aegon V was unpopular across the Kingdoms because of the broken betrothals, Jaehaerys II was weakened by grief, and we don’t need to mention what was wrong with the Mad King. Their investment worked out in the end. But anyway. What’s your plan regarding this conspiracy?”

“Find hard evidence, gather all the co-conspirators, and introduce them to Ice,” Ned said in a hard tone.

Oberyn smiled. “I’ll ask Sarella to keep looking. There must be a ‘book of maesters’ or something somewhere.”

“Thank you, Oby,” Ella said. “And thank you for bringing this to us.”

“Hey, if someone had murdered _my_ daughter, I know you would have helped without being asked. It’s what friends are for, right?”

Ella smiled as he left. She didn’t know if she could fully relax though: had he really not noticed or given any thought to the fact that the child Ella had carried back before the Rebellion had been murdered and was therefore not the lord of a northern castle? Though possible on her end, since Lyarra was a year older than Jon, it would be impossible since she and Ned hadn’t met again. Or perhaps enough time had passed that Oberyn hadn’t thought about the finer details of the timeline. And she knew him, he was too short-tempered to keep in something as big as the suspicion of Jon’s parentage. Most likely he believed Jon had been conceived while she and Ned mourned their dead daughter, thinking her too weak to live. Or he hadn’t even bothered with the thought at all.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It was to Ella’s great relief and the general happiness that the _Lady_ _Daenerys_ finally brought the rest of their family to the capital.

“Up to bed with you,” Ayla said as soon as they met in the family room, “you need rest and it looks like you’ve been having very little of it!”

“But Lady Olenna…” Ella protested as Ayla turned her around and started pushing her towards the stairs.

“Nothing Sansa, Dany, and I can’t handle, I'm sure. Now come on, Addam, help your sister to bed. Midwife’s orders!”

“I’m not beyond carrying you, little sister,” the knight said, amused. Ella went, complaining the whole way that there was loads to be done.

“I did tell her to take it easy,” Ned mumbled.

“She said even sleeping hurts now,” Sansa said as she and Lyanna hugged.

“I’m sure. I’ll get her more pillows later,” Ayla said, smiling as Cregan walked over. Benjen lifted him and he kissed her cheek. “Well, hello my gallant little lord! Auntie missed you!”

“Gwanpa, Papa and I won the race, Gwanpa!” Lyanna said, jumping around.

“What race, little love?” Ned asked, picking her up in a tight hug.

“We raced from the Fortress to the pier,” Jon said. “Hello, Father!”

“It was Lya’s beginner’s luck,” Robb mumbled.

“And then there was a rematch around the harbour as we boarded the ship,” Dany said. “Robb, accept it, Jon is half a centaur! And Winterstorm is the fastest horse in the North!”

Ned smiled nostalgically. _Half a centaur_. Aye, it was a family trait. “Jon and Arya are the best horseback riders in this family,” he said. “But you have other qualities, Robb.”

“I’m centaur too, Gwanpa!” Lyanna said, kicking her feet in the air.

“You will be the best horsewoman in the family when you grow up, little love,” Ned humoured her. “Then I want to be there when you beat your Papa in a race.”

Lyanna exclaimed in joy, drawing laughs from the others.

“When she is old enough to race,” Jon asked quietly to Dany as tea was served, “who are you going to root for?”

She smiled sweetly. “Jon, you are my love, but she is my daughter. She wins every time.”

“I see,” he said, then he chuckled. “Alright, I can live with that. Though we are not playing favourites with the children!”

“Of course not,” Dany agreed. “That’s why they’re never racing each other.”

He chuckled again as they came closer to the table. It had been too long since the last family meal.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beloved readers!
> 
> As usual, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you will remember that this poor author's payment for writing this is only the comments and kudos you leave me :D
> 
> Now, uncomfortable subject, but unfortunately this needs to be said. Those of you who have read Winter Roses since the very beginning know that I have never, not once, deleted a comment. I think everyone is entitled to their opinion and that this is a space to share and grow. And even when I got rude comments and such I have always replied to them as politely as I could manage however frustrated I was. However, there are some people who get into the tags of ships they don’t like simply to go around being rude and downright offensive. It hasn’t happened in Winter Roses in a while, but it’s happening elsewhere and so I decided that I don’t have to put up with someone coming into my inbox and calling me names. That is not expressing your opinion. At least, not in my opinion. So, expose your opinion however you like it and, even if I don’t agree with it, as long as you are not rude and expose an argument that can be talked about then I will continue to do as I have always done and reply explaining my opinion and my choice for going this or that route in the story. However, if your comment is merely rude for rudeness sake, know from now on that it will be deleted. In Winter Roses, Another Dawn, Kindred Souls or any of my stories, the policy will be the same. And if you send another it will be deleted again. The anonymity internet gives should not be a reason why we forget our manners. And if you don’t agree that’s your problem.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final preparations are made and finally the wedding of the year takes place.

The servants had laid a luxurious meal in the gardens for an outdoor meal, joining House Stark and House Tyrell on the days before the wedding.

“You look a lot more rested,” Dany said, bringing some fruits to where Ella was leaning on a chaise longue.

“Thank you, love,” Ella said, biting into a plum with delight. “Ayla had some magic with pillows that finally allowed me to sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time.”

“Yes, that is some magic indeed,” Dany said with a tight smile.

“Oh, my dear, don’t worry. The more you obsess over it, the less likely it is to happen, love. You must _let_ it happen. It will come when you least expect it. And I speak it from experience.” She sighed. “I hope it won’t shock you, but…” she blushed a bit. “After the annulment came through, I obsessed every moon when my blood came. There was one time Ned and I even had a fight over it. But then I… I started to relax. And then wedding preparations distracted me and I didn’t notice the time and I didn’t have that anxiety inside me. And then my moon blood _didn’t_ come. I know both me and Ayla being with child might raise some uncomfortable thoughts, but relax, Dany. You have been through so much, the attack on the Sowing Festival, the traumatic way Little Addam was born, the anxiety over Jon going to the Wall and then Beyond, what happened in Castle Black… you can’t ask too much of yourself.”

“I know…” Dany agreed quietly. “Ayla said much the same and even Jon thinks so. I just… if I am not bearing my lord husband heirs, what is my role in life? To be laughing stock to my family’s murderer?”

“Jon is too much like all of his parents to ever think of you simply a as baby-maker, Dany, and you know that. And I doubt he ever made you feel like that.” Ella squeezed her hand and dropped her voice to a nearly inaudible whisper. “You are Daenerys Targaryen. And no one can take that from you. Ever.” Dany smiled but before she could say anything, there was a commotion from where Margaery and Robb stood with their fathers. “We had better go see what is happening now.”

“Father, you are being unkind!” Margaery was saying as they approached. Though her tone was soft, exasperation could be heard in her voice.

“I simply do not see the point!” Mace said. “You are marrying in the Sept of Baelor, why would you need to…”

“The Sept of Baelor is a place for the Faith of the Seven,” Margaery said. “The Northerners believe in the Old Gods. If I am to be their lady one day in the future, I owe it to them to respect their faith.”

“Oh, but you don’t owe _them_ —”

“Shut up, Mace,” Lady Olenna said. “You’ll have to forgive me, Lord Stark, but if we are to be family soon you should probably _see_ the family. You, Mace, are being disrespectful and intransigent. Margaery is being respectful and welcoming. Besides, what difference does it make for you? It’s one more religion to recognise their union.”

“I just…” Mace was flustered. “Forgive me, Lord Stark, but to my knowledge you yourself married in the Sept of Baelor. And before that in the sept in Riverrun.”

 “And I ask that my son forgive my unkindness,” Ned said, “but you are right, Lord Tyrell: my marriage to Lady Catelyn was observed only in the sept in Riverrun. The Northern lords did have something to complain on the matter.”

“But Lord Stark and I also married in front of the Old Gods,” Ella said. “They are the Northern gods.”

Mace flushed crimson.

“Besides, Father, this is my decision,” Margaery said. “It will mean an insignificant amount of money and very little time to perform the Northern ceremony. I don’t understand the trouble you are creating.”

“No one does,” Olenna said. “Lord Stark, I don’t believe the King will object to us making use of the Red Keep’s godswood, will he?”

“I doubt as much, Lady Olenna,” Ned said.

“Good, good. Lady Stark, I believe between me, my ladies, you, your stepdaughters, and your ladies, we can have this little ceremony organised in time, can we not?”

“I am absolutely certain, Lady Olenna,” Sansa smiled, “we like things simple in the North.”

“I'm sure you do,” Olenna said, smiling back. Another idea had occurred to her now.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It was nearly sunset when Ella found a moment to ask Robb to let go of his betrothed’s hand. She was very happy that, although their match was arranged, they seemed to get along well.

“Is there something wrong?” Robb asked as she led them a bit away from the others so they could talk privately.

“No, love, not at all,” she smiled. “I just wanted to speak with you on a matter I know you won’t like.”

Robb frowned. “Arya was complaining… if this were coming from Father, but I don’t think…”

“Your father would ask you to speak with her, but I thought—” Ella started but Robb cut her off.

“She prayed against my brother, his marriage, and his children. I am not saying I expected her to be happy Father brought a bastard home from the war, but I can’t forgive her cruelty.”

“Your father believes she has recognised she was wrong,” Ella said.

“And do you believe that?”

Ella sighed. “I will always expect the worst of Catelyn, so it doesn’t matter what I believe in. But that is not even my point.”

“Then what is your point, Ella? Because I fail to see why you would want to bring her back into our midst.”

“One day, soon, I pray, you will hold a child of your own in your hands, one who looks half like you and half like that beautiful young lady over there, to whom you have given your heart so thoroughly,” she said and Robb blushed. “And you will understand that what _you_ think matters a little less than what you thought it did. What that child _needs_ will come first. I have told you once, Robb, I do not seek to replace Catelyn, but I have taken you and your siblings into my heart. But we are getting away from what I wanted to say. My point, love, is that when I told you Lyarra was poisoned, even if only for a moment, you thought Catelyn capable of something monstrous. Regardless of what she has done in the past, and despite the fact that I don’t like her, nor will I ever, I do believe she wouldn’t be capable of such a thing. She is your mother, love. You need to mend this, Robb. Not for her, but for yourself.”

“I don’t…” Robb sighed. “I don’t know if I can forgive her for all she has done.”

“Then don’t. But, since you care for Margaery so much, gods willing you will only marry once. Your wedding is a big day. As angry as you are, she is your mother, she always will be, and nothing will ever change that. Don’t let anger rob either of you of this chance of healing. If she is indeed recognising her mistakes, shouldn’t you at least see that for yourself before you make a choice you cannot take back?

Robb took a deep breath. It was a question worth sleeping on.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Catelyn opened a blinding smile when she came into the room.

“Robb! It’s… You… you are here!” She threw her arms around him in a hug he only half returned but she was too happy to care. She hadn’t seen him in nearly two and a half years. “I missed you so much, son!”

“Hello, Mother,” he greeted stiffly.

“I heard you were coming south and I… I was desperately hoping… oh, son, I’m so happy!”

Robb saw the genuine happiness on her face and felt guilty because of the anger he had kept inside for so long.

“Aye, I… Father mentioned you had recognised your mistakes,” he said. “I thought… I thought I should see it for myself.”

“Oh, son, I'm so happy you came! And look at you! You are a man! So handsome! Like your father!”

“I’m nearly nineteen now, Mother.”

“You are, of course you are. Tell me, do you care for your bride? Is she as beautiful as they say? The Golden Rose of Highgarden?”

“Are we just to pretend now, Mother?”

“Whatever do you mean, son?”

“I mean that you have been sent away from Winterfell, ended up here, without House or position, for a reason. We haven’t seen each other in over two years for a reason. Are we not even to talk about it?”

Catelyn pursed her lips. “I understand that praying against the bas— against the _boy_ was a mistake, son. He is a boy who had no hand in his parent’s choices. I was angry and hurt and since blaming your father would make _my_ life hard, I chose to blame him. What else do you want me to say?”

“Nothing, Mother,” Robb said and sighed. “I don’t want you to say anything.” He took a deep breath. “Margaery is lovely, aye.”

“Do you think she will make you happy, son?”

“Aye, I do. I think we should be very happy together.”

“Good. Good, good. Your happiness is all that matters, Robb. Just… I remember when I first came to Winterfell… the b… _boy_ and his princess wife waiting in the nursery notwithstanding, the North is very different for those of us who were raised as ladies in the south. Make sure the sept is welcoming and the septon and septas are there for her. Our faith will be the biggest difference, though the food… especially a girl from the Reach, son, make sure you buy all her favourites.”

“Of course, Mother,” Robb said, though he barely kept in some irritation. “Though I don’t believe Margaery will suffer too much. She has decided to embrace the Old Gods.”

“What?” Catelyn asked with a dismissive laugh. “What utter nonsense! Robb, dear, she only wants to make you happy. It won't cost you to make her happy by allowing her to follow the true gods! Your father already had the sept built for me. And since I saw her praying to the Mother, I’m sure the… your _stepmother_ is a follower of the Seven as well. Unless… unless Ned had the sept torn down?”

“No, it still stands, though these days Septon Chayle is more the librarian than a septon. I will not keep Margaery from the Seven, of course, but she is the one who chose to honour the Old Gods.”

“I think she was being kind, son. But it is good that she means to make you happy.”

“She wants to get married in the godswood as well,” Robb said.

“Whatever for? You have the Sept of Baelor at your disposal! The Sept of Baelor, son! Do you know how many people would pay entire fortunes to marry here? You get that privilege because of your father’s friendship with the King, don’t ignore it. Besides, if you marry in the godswood, no one will recognise your marriage.”

“Sometimes, Mother, your selfishness is indeed too much! Do you know how many Northerners only accepted your marriage to Father because an heir had already been born? That Father had to argue with many of the lords because he would not force you before the heart tree? You speak of the south as if only the south mattered. You just called them the ‘true gods’ as if my gods, my father’s gods were lies we concocted! But Winterfell is the centre of the _North_. And in the North our gods are the Old Gods. Margaery has decided to honour my gods, the gods of her future people and of her future children. And instead of recognising her action as something noble you diminish it as silly nonsense!” He scoffed. “I don’t know why I came. I should have listened to Arya. But I decided to see with my own eyes. I heard E— the advice that you were my mother and I thought we could try and reconcile despite everything, that neither of us deserved to have you excluded from my wedding. It seems I was wrong!”

“Robb, wait!” Catelyn stood up and reached for him, stopping him from leaving. “Please, son, wait. I didn’t… I didn’t mean that Margaery was not being noble. I just meant that she is a southern lady and you are marrying in the capital.”

“We are marrying before the King. I doubt anyone would question that. And I never said we wouldn’t marry before the Seven as well.”

“You are right, son, of course. I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking and I misunderstood what you said. Would you forgive me?”

Robb nodded, though he was still upset. “I would like it if you came to the wedding. I know you would be in the Sept the whole time, but I am inviting you to stay with the family instead of watching from the shadows. And for the feast afterwards.”

“Nothing would make me happier, son,” Catelyn said with a huge smile.

“Good. I will… I must go. Aunt Ayla was cross that I didn’t go to the seamstress enough times so she and Sansa are finishing the wedding clothes. And I must meet with Jon, we have to buy Cregan’s name day present.”

“Of course,” her smile wavered. _Aunt Ayla_. A wet-nurse and laundry maid who had spoken against her lady raised to her children’s lawful aunt! “I… I will see you soon, son. Just… if Sansa needs help with the embroidery… I can always help.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her,” he said and with an awkward nod, he left the room, going to the main sanctuary where workers already prepared for the ceremony. He found Jon and Addam sitting at the top of the stairs, laughing about something. “What is happening?”

“Addam was telling me about a lord tripping and rolling down the steps during a king’s funeral,” Jon said. “Apparently the Kingsguard thought it was a threat and it nearly ended in tragedy before everyone begun laughing at the poor man.”

“I wasn’t there, but it was source of entertainment for a long time.” Addam shrugged. “You said what you came here to say?”

“I did. Come on, we have baby brother and baby nephew gifts to buy. What do I buy a one name day old child?”

“I thought about a wooden sword, but then I thought my sister would hit me on the head with it,” Addam said, getting chuckles from the other two.

“I don’t think Father would be too happy with it yet,” Jon said as they stood up to leave. Addam chuckled and climbed the steps quickly. “You alright?” Jon asked as the brothers were left behind.

“I don’t know. She is still… I don’t know.”

“She’s you mother, Robb. You don’t get a second one of those.” Jon sighed. “No matter how hard Aunt Ayla tried to be there for me, she isn't my mother. Do not take for granted that yours is here.”

Robb nodded and then passed an arm around Jon’s shoulders. “Come on, we have a little brother to make happy.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Robb was pacing around the family dining room, anxiety filling his every step.

“Gods, I’m exhausted only looking at you,” Dany said from the table. “Robb, you need to stop. Come here, eat at least one fruit before you keel over.”

“I’m nervous. Why? Why am I so nervous?”

“Robb, you love her, she loves you, this is only a formality,” Dany said, pouring him a horn of ale. “Here, at least line your stomach. You can eat at the feast.”

“What if something happens?” Robb asked nervously.

“Like what, brother?” Dany asked with a smile. “She loves you! Besides, her father and grandmother wouldn’t give up on the alliance, especially not on the day of. The backlash for House Tyrell would be terrible, not to mention that Margaery would never find another match. She is going to be there.”

Robb nodded and drank the horn in one go. Mary brought Lyanna to the room then.

“Good morning, my love,” Dany said and greeted her with a kiss.

“Mawning, Mamma. Mawning, Uncle. You look nice, Uncle. But you look strange too. Why you strange, Uncle?”

“Uncle Robb is nervous, Lya.”

“Why? I thought today is when Margaery become Auntie Margaery. Why you are nervous, Uncle?”

“Oh, my love, this a long story. You will understand one day,” Dany said. Lyanna shrugged, used to being told that she would understand when she grew up.

“Not for many years yet,” Jon said. “Good morning, little love,” he kissed her.

“Papa, we can go riding?”

“Not today, little love. It’s Uncle Robb’s wedding, remember?”

“The whole day, Papa?”

Jon chuckled. “I’m afraid so, little love. We’ll go riding tomorrow.”

“Alright. Can Auntie Margaery come too?”

“If she will be comfortable on a saddle tomorrow is because Robb did something wrong tonight,” Theon said, taking his place on the table. Daenerys glared and Robb scoffed.

“Watch your mouth around my daughter, Greyjoy,” Jon threatened in a low voice.

“Why, Papa?” Lyanna asked and then she gasped. “Uncle will hurt Auntie?”

“Of course not, my love,” Dany said.

“I would never hurt Auntie, Lya, I promise,” Robb said, throwing a censuring glare Theon’s way, but he seemed unrepentant.

“Greyjoy will watch his mouth more closely, won't you?” Addam said, slapping his hand on his shoulder, making Theon shrink on his chair. “Because I don’t give a fourth warning.” The ironborn nodded, picked up a piece of bread and rushed out of the room. “Good. The air is cleaner now.”

“Good morning!” Ella greeted. “Robb, you look green! Come and eat at least a piece of something or the nervous will go to your head.”

“I’m fine, Ella,” Robb said weakly.

“Sweet of you to think it was a suggestion, love,” Ella said, sitting down.

Jon piled bread and fruit inside a napkin, wrapped it into a fardel, and took a jug of ale and horns.

“We’ll eat in the gardens,” he said. “Come on, brother, I feel like eating with the birds.”

“I come too, Papa!”

“No, love, you stay here with Mamma,” Dany said.

Jon kissed them in the forehead and then left the room under Lyanna’s protests. He unwrapped the napkin once they reached the table in the Tower’s garden.

“Go on, have at least something, Robb.”

“It will be worse if you faint in the middle of the service,” Addam said.

Robb sighed and reached for an orange. “I just don’t understand why I'm so nervous. As Dany said, I know she will be there. And I think this only makes me more nervous. But men don’t get nervous.”

“Something decided by a man who was too nervous,” Addam said. “Look, it is a big thing, getting married. You will swear your life away to someone for the rest of your days. It is not something to be done lightly. No vow is, if I may make the parallel.”

“And perhaps vowing to spend your life with someone might be even harder than vowing to be alone,” Jon said. “Because you have to listen to and respect and honour her. Marriage is hard work, brother I told you as much once. But you will find that it is very rewarding as well.”

“What if we end up hating each other?” Robb asked.

“Then you will have to find ways not to make it public,” Addam pointed out.

“I doubt that could happen, Robb,” Jon tried to reason. “You already like each other.”

“What if she hates Winterfell and resents the North?”

“Robb, she is not going there misled. She knows it is very different from the Reach and that her life will change drastically. She has seen a bit of the North in her moons in the Midnight Fortress and even during the trip to Castle Black, I doubt it will scare her too much. I think you’re just trying to make trouble now.”

Robb sighed and picked at his orange. Addam rolled his eyes and reached for a fig.

“I’m gonna go stand guard over there,” he said and walked a bit away.

“Does he really not leave you alone for even a moment anymore?” Robb asked.

“I got used to it,” Jon shrugged. “He’ll leave me be if I’m inside my chambers, though, and the godswood, but otherwise it’s like he’s a constant shadow.” He exhaled. “It’s a bit tiring, honestly.”

“Well, you did die,” Robb reasoned. “He swore his sword to you and you died on his watch, so he took it as a personal offence. Besides, knowing who he is, I think he is being extra cautious here.”

“I know.” Jon threw a grape in the air and caught it with his mouth. “As I said, I got used to it. Now tell me, what is it that _really_ has got you nervous?” Jon asked and Robb blushed deeply. “Come on, brother, it’s just us. Theon’s not here. I'm not going to mock you. I promise.”

“Well… it’s just… at Castle Black… we…” Robb took a deep breath. “She was furious and we argued, but then we made peace. And I said I loved her, she said she loved me, and we…”

“Oh. You two…?”

“Not all the way. Grey Wind interrupted to bring me to you. And then after that… it’s just…”

“Robb, I saw you going up to one of the rooms that time you and Theon dragged me to the brothel and I know you went there multiple times. Why are you nervous? You’re not a green boy.”

“No, you’re right, I'm not. But I haven’t been to the brothel ever since the betrothal was set. And though Margaery assured me she was still a maiden, that night in Castle Black… she knows what she is doing.”

“Well, you know what you are doing. But if it makes you feel better, I didn’t and Dany didn’t have any complains.”

“Eugh, Jon, she is my sister!”

Jon laughed. “She may be a Targaryen, but I can’t think of her as a sister.” He shrugged. “Though you’re changing the subject. Why are you nervous about your wedding night? You already know what goes where.”

Robb finally sighed. “It’s not about what goes where, that I do know. But a person cannot travel in the same ship as you and Dany and not wonder how you can make her scream like that.”

“You heard us?” Jon blushed deeply. “We were trying to be quiet.”

“Well, you failed.” Robb chuckled. “I do pity the poor sods who have to stand at your door, though.”

“They don’t stand at the door to the bedchamber, only the outer door. Ghost takes the sitting room and I pity whoever makes the poor choice to go through him. But, again, you’re changing the subject. You know what to do, Robb. Or are you telling me your whores didn’t enjoy their time with you?”

“Well, they seemed to. But they are paid to enjoy their time with me, aren’t they? What if I can’t please Margaery?”

“Well, then your marriage will be hellish,” Jon said, making Robb throw a grape at him. “Look, Robb, forget what all these lords would tell you, that the point is your pleasure, that your wife is meant to endure it. Even the septons and septas say that enjoying it is a sin, that it is a means for procreation and what not. You know I never listened to Septon Chayle or Septa Mordane and thank the Old Gods that I wasn’t forced to like the rest of you were. I never felt more connected, more in tune with a person than I feel like when Dany and I are together. It’s not about ourselves, it’s bigger than we as people, it is about loving each other and wanting her to be happy, or whatever. I'm not a bloody poet. You know a woman’s body and you’ll have a long time to learn Margaery’s, to learn what she likes, what brings her pleasure. I think the point is to never stop trying.”

“You mean they each like different things?” Robb was very alarmed.

“Come on, brother, out of the bedchamber context, as if we liked the same things!”

“You’re right. Now I'm feeling stupid.”

Jon chuckled. “I don’t think you’re being stupid. Though, did you ever think that _she_ might be wondering if she can please _you_? And the pressure on her is infinitely bigger. If you don’t please her, people might whisper that you’re unkind behind your back, but you’ll still be a respected lord. And no one will ever care about _her_ pleasure. But if she doesn’t please you or if she doesn’t give you children soon, especially a boy, she is the failed lady, unfit, and improper.”

“You’re right, brother. Alright. I’m not feeling green anymore.”

“Good,” Jon said and threw him a peach. “Now eat or we’ll both have to face our enraged stepmother. Or Aunt Ayla will get in the middle and, trust me, we don’t want that. Those two are scary when they’re with child!”

Laughing, Robb bit into the fruit and the brothers stayed in the gardens, laughing for a while longer until Rickon came and said Ella was calling because it was time to get dressed to go.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The sanctuary was slowly filling up with guests as lords and ladies from all around the realm arrived. Robb was standing with Ned between the Mother and the Father, below the altar, waiting and talking.

“Nephew! I’m afraid a delay on the road only allowed me to arrive this morning, but I’m so glad to be able to congratulate you on this happiest of days!”

“Uncle Edmure!” Robb greeted, surprise. “I wasn’t… I’m glad you are here, Uncle. What about Grandfather? Am I finally to meet him?”

“I’m afraid not, Nephew. Father finds it hard to travel these days, so he sent a letter and a gift, but he couldn’t come. Lord Stark,” Edmure greeted stiffly.

“Lord Edmure,” Ned greeted back politely, though he didn’t resent the man’s animosity. “I am sorry for your lord father’s ailment.”

“Old age is to blame,” Edmure says. “Only those among us who are lucky go far enough to understand it.”

“Brother,” Catelyn said, coming up to the group, “I wasn’t aware you were coming.”

“And I wasn’t aware you had been invited, sister.”

“She is my mother, Uncle,” Robb said.

“I see.” Edmure chanced a look at Ned. “Does that mean that—”

“Robb, Ella is asking where you put the cloak. Because she told you not to touch it and now it’s missing,” Arya said. “Mother,” she said stiffly. “So, Robb, the cloak?”

“I left it where Ella told me to leave it!” he exclaimed.

“I already found it,” Ella said. “Rickon moved it to the next table, but I have already had it set.” She looked at the other woman. “Catelyn.”

Catelyn merely nodded, not trusting herself to speak as the other woman laced her arm through Ned’s. She had known she was pregnant, but to see the evidence, so obviously rubbing on her face!

“Uncle!” Lyanna came running through the awkward moment and threw herself on Robb’s arms, who laughed as he picked her up. “Mamma said to ask white fohwers or yellow fohwers.” Orys and Mary came panting behind her.

“Huum…” Robb said as the others laughed. Lyanna was the cutest in her light blue dress embroidered with roses and a silver belt. Her hair was held back by a lilac band lost amidst her dark brown curls that made the colour of her eyes pop out in their unique hue. “I don’t know, Lya, what do you think?”

“Winter roses! I like winter roses, Uncle!” she exclaimed and Robb laughed.

Catelyn shifted, uncomfortable. This girl was the reason she had lost everything and she was well loved by her son, it was clear. And now, looking at her… except for her Targaryen lilac eyes, the girl looked just like Arya when she had been this young. She was more a Stark than Sansa in looks. Why, when she was nothing but the bastard’s daughter?

“But winter roses are _your_ flowers, little love. We are talking about Auntie Margaery’s flowers,” Ella said.

“Oh. Fine.” Lya smiled. “Auntie said House Tywell is a gold fohwer, so I think yellow fohwers, Uncle.”

“Oh, but I quite agree, Lya, it is very smart of you,” Robb said. “But why don’t you ask Auntie Margaery once she gets here to see what she thinks? She knows more about flowers than me.”

“Alright!” Lyanna said and squirmed to be put down. Then she ran to Ned. “Gwanpa!” she exclaimed and Ned was delighted to crouch to her height and receive a kiss, then standing up with her on his arms.

“What do you have to ask Auntie Margaery?” Ella asked, after receiving her own kiss.

“Yellow fohwers. Gwanma, can I have fohwers too?”

“Only the ones you will give Auntie, little love. It’s her wedding remember?” Ella said.

“Fine! I go now Gwanpa!” she said and Ned laughed as he set her down.

“Gods, does she ever stop?” Ned chuckled as they watched the guard and the nurse rush after her again.

“Only when she drops with exhaustion, I think.” Ella laughed.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that’s Lyanna, Mother,” Arya said. “The little girl you—”

“Arya, would you go and find your sister and aunt?” Ella cut in. “Jon and Daenerys are coming right behind me and Benjen is bringing Rickon.”

“Why do I have to find Sansa?” Arya asked and Ella only raised an eyebrow. “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

“I thought flower girls wore garlands on their heads,” Edmure said, making the others look at him queerly.

“Edmure!” Catelyn censored.

“We wouldn’t want to obfuscate Lady Margaery,” Ella said diplomatically.

“Lady Olenna sent a message they have already left the Red Keep,” Sansa said. “Hello, Mother!”

“Hello, dear!” Catelyn smiled and introduced her brother.

“She looks just like you, Cat,” Edmure said. “Reminds me of when we were children in Riverrun.”

But Ned was looking around. “Where is Robert? Even after the Tyrells come, we cannot start without the King.”

“Didn’t you leave Ser Barristan in charge of that?” Ella asked.

“The man might be a highly skilled knight, but he can’t make miracles, can he?” Ned muttered.

“Lord Stark, Lady Stark,” Edric greeted with a secret smile to his aunt, joining the group, “Lord Robb, I offer my sincerest congratulations on this happiest of days.”

“Thank you, Lord Dayne,” Robb said, sneaking a glance at a blushing Sansa. “And I hope it won’t be too far in the future the day when I return the sentiment.”

“We can wait a little while longer yet, I think,” Ned said and Sansa blushed even more.

“Of course, Lord Stark.” Edric offered Sansa a violet. “May I hope to have a dance later this afternoon, my lady?”

“I would like that, my lord,” Sansa said. Edric smiled and left.

Robb chuckled. “Sister, your face is the colour of your hair!”

“Aunt Ayla is coming with Uncle Benjen and Rickon,” Arya said as she re-joined them. “Gods, Sansa, you are blushing!” Then she saw the violet and rolled her eyes. “Of course. Edric was here.”

“Does she always blush this much?” Robb asked.

“Only when her great knight is around,” Arya answered mockingly.

“Robb, Arya, you are embarrassing your sister. Stop,” Ned censored.

As the two chuckled, Catelyn felt excluded. Arya was mocking Sansa, yes, but it lacked the bite it once had, when they had been downright nasty to each other.

“Is there…” she asked hesitatingly. “Is there a match set?”

“Not officially,” Ned said. “And we would appreciate discretion until the eventual announcement.”

Catelyn smiled, but inside she was in turmoil. Not that the choice would not always lie with Ned, since he was the lord father, and it was not like he was obligated to ask her opinion even if they were still married, but she felt like she didn’t even belong in her children’s lives anymore. Sansa had visited a few times since her name day and not once had she mentioned her potential betrothal — a betrothal that was a bit more than ‘tentative’ if Sansa was blushing and had even taken to wearing an amethyst, a gem connected to House Dayne.

“Ned!” Robert greeted boisterously. “Quite the party, eh! Ella, lovely as ever! And Robb! Ready to vow to carry a burden?”

“I doubt Lady Margaery will make it hard to bear, Your Grace,” Robb said with a smile.

“Ah, you’re right! Look at your father, happy as a clam, even after he had gotten himself free! I suppose it’s not a burden if you care for the person. Otherwise, you can always do as I did and send her back to her father!” Robert laughed, not noticing how the others were uncomfortable and Edmure looked deeply offended. “Hells, if I had gotten your aunt… but I got stuck with Cersei.”

A boy came and whispered something to Ella and it was with relief that she cleared her throat, interrupting the King’s reminiscing.

“Lady Olenna says they are here. We must take our places so the ceremony can begin.” She threw Ned a look and he distracted Robert so Jon and Daenerys could join them without further embarrassing commentary.

Robb felt his mind start going a mile a moment again, his palms begin to sweat, wondering and wondering… but then he saw Lyanna coming, spreading yellow petals on the ground with her most charming smile, and Margaery appeared at the door on her father’s arm and, suddenly, his heart slowed down at last.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you have all enjoyed the wedding :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the wake of Robb and Margaery's wedding, tension begins to rise in King's Landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up ;)

Catelyn had prepared for nasty looks and glares and the lords and ladies of Westeros had not disappointed, looking at her as if she had committed a capital sin or as if greyscale had broken out on her face. She knew Ned hadn’t disclosed the reason he had sent her away, but even if he wasn’t the honourable Lord Stark and therefore people judged he had good cause, she knew they would still blame her for the failure of their marriage.

She hadn’t attended a feast since the King’s arrival in Winterfell and that had been three years ago, so she was enjoying it thoroughly even if her dress was simple — though Robb had arranged to send her a better one than the other septas had — and her only piece of jewellery was the necklace Petyr had given her.

And Catelyn had to give it to the Tyrells, they did know how to throw a banquet! Robb and Margaery made the image of the perfect young couple in love, sitting at the high table and whispering sweet nothings to each other amidst laughter. The cooler weather allowed the bride to wear her matrimonial cloak and she looked beautiful with the white fur covering her.

“I cannot begin to say how happy I am for you that you were invited, Cat.”

“Petyr!” she smiled. “Yes, Robb came and invited me himself a few days ago!”

“How wonderful!” Littlefinger smiled. “If I had known, I would have gotten you a proper dress!”

“Robb had this one sent over. I think Septa Unella wouldn’t have allowed anything else. She was ill-humoured enough that the High Septon allowed this.”

“If the good septa had her way we would all be barefoot, wearing rough spun robes, and giving our money to the poor.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Catelyn said acidly.

The feasting was giving way to the dancing and the entertainers were clearing space for the minstrels. They looked over to the high table where Daenerys was helping Margaery remove her cloak and then the bride took her husband’s hand and he led them to the dance floor.

Daenerys dragged Jon away as soon as the first dance was over and it didn’t take much longer for Edric to come asking for Sansa’s company. Ella chuckled when she saw Ned shrinking a bit on his chair once Benjen also led Ayla to the dance floor.

“You can relax, you are not dancing today,” she said.

“Oh, thank the gods,” he said and exhaled in relief.

“Thank our child. I'm too uncomfortable to give it a go.”

“Papa is already very proud of you,” he said with a pat to Ella’s very large bump and then kissing the back of her hand.

“You’re helpless,” she chuckled. “And to think that we met on a dance floor.”

“I had no other way of getting near you.” Ned shrugged.

“What would you have done if Brandon hadn’t come to ask me?” she asked quietly.

“He wouldn’t have refused, because that was the kind of meddling Brandon loved to get into. I didn’t even outright ask him, he just saw me looking longingly at the most beautiful maiden in the ballroom and decided to play matchmaker. But I would have sent Benjen or I’m sure Lyanna would have volunteered.”

“And if I had said no?” Ella asked with a smile.

“Then my heart would have been irremediably broken,” he answered, returning the smile.

A few moments later, Ned was dragged away by enthusiastic Northern lords and their lady wives kept Ella company. After a few songs, Jon managed to extricate himself from Dany’s twirls and took to the side of the dance floor, and only because she — gods know how — convinced Addam to take his place, leaving him with Rellos and Leeds as escort.

“I must confess,” a young woman said as she came nearer. Jon recognised by her features and accent that she was a salty Dornish but he had no idea whom she might be. “That all I heard about you still made me think of you a Northman without any attractives, Lord Starling. But I find the truth so much more… accommodating,” she finished with a wicked smile.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but you have me at a disadvantage,” Jon said, uncomfortable with the predatory look she had.

“ _Lady_ ,” she scoffed. “Please. I’m no such little, useless thing.” She smiled. “I’m a princess. _The Princess_. Arianne Martell.”

“Of course. Forgive me, Princess Arianne, but you are simply nothing like what we usually find in Court. Well met, Your Grace.”

“Prim and proper like a prudish Northerner,” she said and then tried to ghost her fingers over Jon’s arms. “With those eyes of yours and these curls… it would be a shame not to add some spice to your dull life.” He caught her wrists.

“My life is far from dull, Princess, you needn’t worry.”

Her smile didn’t falter as she took her hand back. “I hear the little dragon _lady_ was raised in the cold prudish North. Wouldn’t you like to taste some spice, Jon Starling?” She tried stepping closer again. “My blood runs hot enough to warm you up nicely, I assure you.”

“My lady wife is a dragon, Princess,” Jon said in a low voice, “I doubt even the sun burns that hot. If you would excuse me, Your Grace.”

He turned to leave, but was faced with a furious Daenerys, her face red with indignation.

“What is happening here?” she demanded.

“Princess Arianne was only introducing herself,” Jon said, though the stormy look on Dany’s amethyst eyes was making him anxious.

“Well met, Lady Starling,” Arianne said, her smile still in place.

“Enough, Ari,” Addam said quietly. “You don’t want to cause a scene.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” she said, innocently, though her smirk only grew.

“Tell that to someone who hasn’t grown up with your uncle and carried you around when you were too young to walk,” Addam spat through his teeth. “Go now. This is not the place, much less the time, to pick a fight.”

“I look forward to our next conversation, Lord Starling,” Arianne said. “Lady Starling, it was a pleasure.” She walked away, then, her smirk still in place.

“Dany, Dany, Dany!” Jon held her back. “We are in the middle of my brother’s wedding feast. In the Red Keep! You can’t get into a fight with the Princess of Dorne!”

“She’d better keep her distance,” Dany said lowly, backing down as she noticed the stares they were getting and the alarm in Jon’s voice broke through the fog of righteous indignation and fury in her mind.

“I don’t care what she does or says,” Jon said back. “You know I would never.”

“I know that!” Dany scoffed. “Doesn’t mean she is allowed to try!”

Jon smiled. “You know, you look even lovelier when you’re all angry and furious,” he whispered lowly. Addam rolled his eyes and took one step farther away, Rellos and Leeds following his example.

“Trying to make me angry might not be good for our marriage,” Dany whispered back, though she was now smiling.

“I wouldn’t.” Jon chuckled. “Though I have to confess only the fact that we would have to come back for the Northern ceremony is keeping me from throwing you over my shoulder and dragging you to our chambers where I would proceed to rip that dress off you and make you flushed red for another reason altogether.”

“Hold that thought until the evening, my lord husband. Then I will show you why you have no need of a slutty Dornish princess.”

“You are the only princess I want,” he whispered into her ear so there would be no chance for anyone to overhear.

“Good. Because I don’t like sharing.”

Jon chuckled as she dragged him back to the dance floor. Time passed comfortably, everyone eating and drinking and dancing until the sun set and darkness took over. Half the southron lords decided to keep enjoying the feast, but the wedding party followed to the godswood for the Northern ceremony. Once they were making their way back to the banquet, Jon matched his steps with his brother.

“After the whole day drinking, these lords and ladies are beginning to be too drunk,” he said and Theon proved their point by starting to sing off-tune behind them. “Unless you want a drunk Greyjoy pawing at Margaery, retire now before they call the bedding ceremony.”

“It’s tradition,” Margaery said, though there was trepidation in her voice.

“My father didn’t allow for it in either of his two weddings,” Robb said. “And nor did Jon. Besides, if we go now, people won’t even notice. But it’s up to you, Margaery.”

Theon yelled a particularly bawdy joke and they all twisted their faces in disgust.

“Let’s go,” the bride agreed. “We don’t need to observe this tradition.”

“We’ll cover for you,” Daenerys said.

“Just come with me,” Jory said, leading the way with a torch.

“Since we are speaking of jealousy,” Dany said quietly to her husband as they resumed their way to the feast, “I remember _your_ flushed indignation when Theon tried to call for the bedding in our wedding.”

“We might not have married in a sept, Dany, but I am yours and you are mine. Someone tries to touch you, they’ll lose their fingers. At minimum.”

“Good,” she smiled. “As long as you know that the reciprocal is true.”

“Good,” he smiled back.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned still thought that the arrangement of a wedding was something that was too cold to lead to love, a bartering and negotiating of terms and conditions. He was still hesitant to trust in anyone from the Citadel, but had decided Maester Byren was worthy of trust and Silver’s acceptance of his presence only reinforced it. He had tried not laugh when the direwolf had barked at Lord Baelish the first time they had met in the Small Council — after Tywin Lannister’s attempt at passing his law and how the Master of Coin had aided him, Ned couldn’t trust the man.

Edric had left Starfall’s new maester behind, saying he was still testing the man’s loyalty after Maester Corlys’ betrayal. But Oberyn had sent an advisor from Sunspear to aid him and had even had one or two things to say about the contract. Not to mention Addam, who looked it over as well.

But finally, all terms and conditions agreed upon and the dowry stipulated, the scribe was finishing writing everything down when Sansa came into the room.

“Father, you sent for me?”

“I did, love,” Ned said. “Excuse us for one moment, my lords.” He stood from his desk and led Sansa across the corridor to Ella’s empty solar. “My sweet girl, we are about to sign the papers. So if you have any doubts whatsoever, speak now. I will ask Edric to wait until you are sure, you don’t have to worry.”

Sansa frowned. “Father, why… I thought it was very unusual to ask the bride her opinion, especially as many times as you have.”

Ned sighed, remembering the awful fight between Lyanna and their father the night before Lord Rickard had left to meet with Robert and sign their betrothal.

“One day I shall explain my reasons, but not now. For now, what you need to know is that you are my beloved daughter and I need to know you will be happy.”

“I will, Father,” Sansa said with a smile. “I will be very happy, I know it.”

“Good.” Ned hugged her and kissed her forehead. “I will go sign the papers then.”

“Ella is resting so I don’t wish to disturb her, but Lady Allyria is here and asked me for a walk so we can talk about Starfall. May I go?”

“Of course, love,” Ned said, happy that Sansa seemed to get along with her aunt — even if she thought Allyria would only become her aunt once she married Edric.

He went back to his solar and had barely finished putting the quill away when there was a knock on the service door and Lord Varys let himself in.

“I am terribly sorry to interrupt, Lord Stark, but I wonder if I might have a word about a most urgent matter.”

Seeing that the scribe was still sanding the signatures and it would take more than a moment to gather his things to leave the room, Ned led them once again to Ella’s solar.

“What is it?”

“My lord, you know as well as I that, regardless of you saying no to the betrothal back when it was first offered, Robert still wants to call Lady Sansa daughter one day.”

“I told him I wouldn’t allow Sansa to marry Joffrey after what he did in Winterfell.”

“I know, my lord, but the King rarely listens to what displeases him. He thought it was a matter of time, that Joffrey would grow older and smarter and therefore the marriage would take place.”

Ned cursed under his breath. “So what? I’ll tell him gently tomorrow if I—”

“Littlefinger is on his way back from the Sept of Baelor and my little birds told me he heard quite the tale from Lady Catelyn. He sent a squire ahead to request an audience with the King, so he is clearly wanting to cause intrigue. I told you once, Lord Stark, the Lannisters’ only way to get rid of you without detonating a war would be to have Robert send you packing.”

“And Lord Baelish is on the Lannisters’ side, is that it?”

“Littlefinger is on Littlefinger’s side, Lord Stark. He will do what is best for him. And after you’ve cut half his income and his corruption network in the city, the best for him is _not_ your continued presence.”

Ned cursed loudly now. “I’ll go to Robert then, before Baelish can poison him. Can you delay him?”

“I can try. But as long as you get through the King’s door first, Littlefinger will have to wait for his audience. The King would never let anyone disturb you.”

“Good. See it done, Lord Varys,” Ned said and went to get his cloak, making quick excuses to Edric, saying he would return shortly so they could toast to the signed betrothal. His heart was pumping quickly as he rushed through the Red Keep to Maegor’s Holdfast.

“Nobody comes in until I give the order,” he told Jory and the Kingsguards at the door.

“Ned!” Robert greeted once he was inside. “Did you hear? Oh, I almost wrung that boy’s neck with my bare hands!”

Ned cursed mentally. Robert was already furious with something, his whole face flushed dark red.

“What is it?” he asked, afraid of the reaction he would get.

“That boy! That fucking blasted boy! He is rotten in the inside, I tell you!” Robert exclaimed and Ned was worried about the pulsing vein on the side of his head.

“Joffrey?”

“Yes, Joffrey! Cursed was the day Cersei pushed him out of her cunt!”

“Robert, what happened?”

The King drank his whole cup and slammed it on the table. “Ser Barristan came to tell me, said he wanted to warn me before he went to you. He didn’t tell you?”

“We must have missed each other on the way,” Ned said. “What did Joffrey do?”

“Littlefinger, from the height of his whoring wisdom, thought it would be sensible to send the boy a whore. Apparently, they talked at the wedding. The girl was found thrown in the middle of the sitting room, badly beaten and bleeding, as the little princeling slept peacefully on his bed. Ser Barristan said it looked like five men had attacked to kill the girl! Five! They were still bringing her to the Grand Maester.”

Ned rubbed his forehead, cursing quietly. “You know we won’t be able to cover this up, don’t you, Robert? Even if you throw a fortune at this girl and offer her a good husband with a position, people _will_ talk.”

“I know.” Robert was breathing hard now. “I will look for a husband and a position, of course, because she needs compensation too. But how do I punish Joffrey?”

“You can’t send him to Casterly Rock, Robert. He will only come back worse.”

“Worse! That fucking boy is my heir! My eldest son, the next king! How can it get any worse?!”

Ned sighed, watching as the King furiously vented about Joffrey’s misdeeds. He knew there was an easy way to quench Robert’s fears about the Crown Prince mad designs once he became king, but he still didn’t dare voice it. Perhaps this would be the wrong moment. Better to wait until Robert was at least calmer to announce Sansa’s betrothal and, if Joffrey acted out again… then propose a drastic measure.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon and Robb watched with amusement the energetic maester bark orders at the sailors as they brought his things aboard.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait to come North with us?” Jon asked again. “You would be more comfortable and my ship can bring you as far as the Wall, Archmaester.”

“No, no, I have already spent enough time here! Wasted enough time, though researching the Red Keep’s library can never be considered a waste of time. But no, I would very much prefer to get going. There is much to do, much to learn! And I am certain Aemon and I have much to discuss! Time is precious, my lords, learn that!”

“It is an important lesson,” Jon said. “Please, Archmaester, do give our regards to Maester Aemon.”

“Archmaester, the captain says we shall depart as soon as you are aboard,” Alleras said.

“Now then! Let’s go! Lord Robb, Lord Starling, it was a pleasure! Until next time!” And he left briskly towards the boat followed by his assistant.

“That is the kind of man who would time his conversations with sandglasses to make sure they didn’t last longer than necessary,” Robb said.

Jon laughed. “He certainly is.” They turned to go back to where the guards were standing with their horses. “By the way, Addam told me something this morning.”

“Where is your shadow?” Robb asked.

“Going after Daenerys, though I couldn’t explain to you the change of heart. He said that he can’t wait until we are back to the Midnight Fortress, because the screaming competition between Dany and Margaery these past couple of nights is getting indecent. I think you didn’t have to worry after all, did you, brother?”

Robb chuckled. “We… we are… getting to know each other.”

“I’m happy for you, truly. Though if you want to spare yourself some headache, make it impossible for Theon to comment.”

“Don’t worry,” Robb laughed as they went up on their horses, “these years alone with him in Winterfell made me quite capable in handling Theon.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Littlefinger cursed mentally as he approached the King’s door, seeing that Lord Stark’s guard was standing next to the Kingsguards. One of his spies had caught him upon his arrival at the Red Keep just now and told him the fate of his gift to Prince Joffrey and he had known that he would have to act quickly, for this would be one more argument the Northerner would use for having chosen another betrothed for his eldest daughter. He would need to act offended as well, for what been done to his gesture of goodwill, though he was annoyed only due to the financial loss — he couldn’t care less about the girl.

“Good morning, Sers. I have an audience with the King.”

“The King is unavailable at the moment, Lord Baelish,” Jory said.

“Not to discredit your skills, but I believe you are Lord Stark’s guard. This is the King’s chambers. So why don’t you return to—”

“Lord Stark is speaking with the King,” Jory didn’t even flinch at the rudeness, “and gave us orders to not allow anyone in.”

“If you would only tell the King I am here, perhaps he would be interested—”

“If the King wished for your presence, Lord Baelish, he would have sent for you,” Jory cut in, “but he has not, you are the one who requested this audience, so you will wait for the _King_ ’s convenience.”

Littlefinger clenched his jaw and took a step back. The Kingsguards — Preston Greenfield and Mandon Moore — would be easily convinced to at least ask the King if he would see him, but Stark’s man… that one would be impossible to bribe or convince. So if he wanted to cause chaos… with Eddard Stark filling Robert’s ears, the King wouldn’t turn against him — not that it would have been an easy feat before. So if he wanted chaos to come from this situation, from Sansa Stark’s betrothal to Edric Dayne, then he needed to go elsewhere. The scorned party, so to say. If he could manipulate things to make Joffrey pretend like he loved Sansa deeply, Robert Baratheon would remember when it had been his beloved, the Lady Lyanna, who was stolen away by another blond twat and not even his friendship with Ned Stark would be able to fix things. So he turned on his heels and down the hall. As he had once told Varys, chaos is a ladder.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Robert was still furious, though he was no longer fuming. He and Ned had talked about a few potential punishments for Joffrey, including real training with the knights, extra hours with the Grand Maester, even something to do with helping the smallfolk. Ned doubted any of these would have any effect, but it seemed to take Robert away from the edge of his fury.

Suddenly there was loud commotion at the door. Ned stood up with a hand on his pommel, but relaxed when he saw it was Joffrey.

“I demand an explanation!” the Prince exclaimed.

“You can make no demands, you little shit!” Robert yelled, his face growing crimson with fury again. “I am your father and your King and you have no right to walk into my chambers demanding anything!”

Joffrey visibly faltered, but his pale face was also flushed in anger. “Father, you said Lady Sansa was to be my bride. Mine!”

Robert frowned, confused with the turn the conversation had taken. Ned felt the boiling urge to strangle Littlefinger surging up — because this was obviously his doing, after he had seen Jory outside and therefore extrapolated that he wouldn’t reach Robert in time to try and create a rift between the two friends.

“The King knows I did not accept the honour, my prince,” Ned said. “And in light of recent events, I must say I made the appropriate choice.” Joffrey bristled, breathing hard with fury.

“What does this have to do with anything?” Robert asked.

“I believe Prince Joffrey is referring to what I came to tell you, Your Grace, before we were distracted by other news. I have promised Lady Sansa’s hand to the Lord of Starfall, Lord Edric Dayne.”

Robert was shocked and conflicted. On one hand, he still expected that Ned would change his mind and allow Sansa’s betrothal to Joffrey and they would finally be one family, after Lyanna had been stolen away and they had had the chance of becoming true brothers ripped away from them. But after the news that had greeted him this morning…

“Sansa is mine!” Joffrey yelled. “I will not take this insult! I am the Crown Prince and I don’t care what a filthy Northerner thinks, no other man in the Seven Kingdoms is as good as I am and I will have Lady Sansa. You can have her back after she has spit me an heir or two, I don’t care, but I will have her!”

The room was so drowned in silence that the sound of Robert’s hand slapping Joffrey’s face echoed off the walls.

“I should have done this years ago!” Robert said in a furious low voice. “Perhaps that is what you lacked, sense slapped into you. But your mollycoddling is over. You will learn to be a man, to act like a normal person or I will have you beaten in public. Now get out of my sight or I will start your education right now!”

Joffrey was so shocked he could only stare at his father, his hand on his reddening cheek, his lips trembling. Then he suddenly turned on his heels and left the room. Ned watched him leave with uneasiness — you should never poke a sleeping lion and Robert had just burst into the lion’s den shaking everything and rudely jolting the slumbering feline into alertness.

“You made an alliance with the Daynes?” Robert asked, turning to his friend.

“I did. That is why I was already on my way here when Ser Barristan went to tell me about Joffrey’s nightly activities. I came to tell you.”

“Then why didn’t you?!”

“Because you were furious with Joffrey and I wanted to help you solve your issue before I told you about something that is happening with my family.”

Robert sighed. “I still wished… I wanted to call her daughter one day. But once again the chance to be family was stolen from us. I can’t… I can’t blame you, Ned. Especially not after last night and what we just witnessed.”

“My intention was never to disrespect you, Robert,” Ned said. “But after everything my family has suffered, I need to put my daughter’s safety above all else.”

“Of course,” Robert said and he was nearly melancholic now. “The King wishes Lady Sansa and Lord Dayne all the happiness. When will they marry?”

“Not for another two years at least. We will set a date for after Sansa’s sixteenth name day.”

Robert nodded, already returning to his wine.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Sansa and Allyria were happily talking, making a tour of the Red Keep as they got acquainted. Arya had stayed behind when they crossed the gardens, saying she already knew the castle and wanted to ride.

“It looks scary,” Allyria said when they were before the Iron Throne.

“I suppose Aegon, the Conqueror, wanted to inspire the fear of his people to insure their obedience,” Sansa replied.

“Lady Sansa!” Joffrey exclaimed loudly, coming into the room and visibly upset. The few courtiers there turned to look.

“Your Grace,” Sansa curtseyed, uncomfortable. It didn’t matter how long she’d been in the capital, she still felt awkward around the unkind Prince.

“I heard the big announcement,” Joffrey continued. “So you are betrothed to Lord Dayne this week. Who is next? You are certainly moving down in the world!”

The courtiers begun to whisper and Allyria stiffened in alert. Edric had told her they were keeping things under wraps until Lord Stark could tell the King and they should be in the Tower signing the papers now, there hadn’t been time for a formal announcement yet.

“What do you mean, Your Grace?” Sansa asked, anxiety rising.

“I mean that your fickle father had promised you to me and now the great Lord Stark broke his word and betrothed you to Lord Dayne. He has snubbed the Crown Prince in favour of a nobody lord from the shithole of Dorne. One must wonder why.”

“I was…” Sansa gulped. “I was under the impression that my lord father never accepted our betrothal.”

Joffrey twisted his face into something dark and ugly. “And now you call me a liar.” He started in Sansa’s direction and the guard behind her stepped closer. “You dare threaten your Prince?”

“Not at all, Your Grace. But I am in charge of Lady Sansa and I think it is time we return to the Tower, my lady.”

“Ser Boros,” Joffrey called the Kingsguard at his back, “Lord Stark’s mad dog has offended his Prince. Put him down.”

The order was so shocking that it took a moment for the guard to react. And that moment cost him his life. The courtiers rose in whispers, Sansa gasped, and Allyria pulled her arm.

“Come on, Sansa, I'm sure Lord Stark…”

“You are not going anywhere!” Joffrey exclaimed. He looked around to a group of red coats standing nearby. “This Dayne bitch, whoever she is, needs help staying in her place.”

Allyria, with her sigil embroidered on her dress, and Sansa managed to give a few steps towards the doors before the red coats reached them and dragged them back. Allyria would have tried to reach for the dagger hidden on her waistline — she was a Dayne after all, she knew how to handle a blade — but there were just too many guards for her to overpower alone and so the defiance would lead them nowhere.

“Ser Boros,” Joffrey continued in an amused voice, “Lady Sansa called me a liar. She needs to be punished.”

The courtiers were shocked into watching. A few had left quickly to get someone to stop the madness, but the room kept filling up as more people came to watch. No one interfered though. The Kingsguard pushed a trembling and scared Sansa, making her stumble and fall, and then pulled on her hair, forcing her to her knees. Joffrey smiled wickedly, taking great satisfaction in watching her blue eyes fill with tears.

“Ser Boros, Lady Sansa is overdressed. Unburden her.”

The knight smiled wickedly as he complied, tearing the back of Sansa’s dress as the girl cried. Allyria fought against the two redcoats holding her, but that only earned her a slap to the face. The Kingsguard then took his pommel and went straight against Sansa’s back, making her gasp as her lungs were shocked out of breath.

“What is happening here?” Margaery elbowed her way through the crowd, gasping as she took in the scene. “Send for Lord Stark,” she told the guard next to her, who left quickly.

“Hold her down!” Joffrey commanded the redcoats around. The Tyrell guard who had remained with Margaery tried to stop it, but three redcoats took the best of him and seized Margaery as he bled out onto the ground. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Lady Margaery Tyrell, defending your new sister. Or should I call you Lady Margaery Stark now? Well, no matter. I am the Crown Prince, no one can save you from me!” Joffrey cackled a laugh. “Ser Boros! Lady Sansa is still undisciplined!”

Margaery screamed, Allyria screamed, both of them trying to get loose from the guards that held them. The crowd was enraged, but still no one interfered. Sansa cried out as the Kingsguard pushed her shoulder, throwing her sprawling on the ground, and started kicking her middle. Jaime walked into the throne room, freezing, a feeling of doom going down his spine. In his mind’s eye, he saw the travesty of the scene of Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys being presented before the throne, wrapped in Lannister banners, their forms disfigured by the cruelty of another monster dressed as a knight.

“Stop this, Ser Boros!” he yelled, making the crowd part for him.

“Uncle! You have no voice here!” Joffrey called from where he stood on the dais of the throne, highly amused and entertained.

Sansa was crying on the ground, feeling sore and broken. Jaime wasn’t moved by Joffrey’s taunt. “Step away, Ser Boros,” he repeated.

“He’s acting on my command,” Joffrey said. “He is—”

“Prince Joffrey is feeling unwell, he obviously has no idea of what he is doing,” Jaime declared coldly. “Step away, Ser Boros.” The knight smiled evilly, raising his foot and stomping on to Sansa’s hand, making her yell out in pain. Jaime unsheathed his sword. “This is your last warning. Step away.”

The Kingsguard raised his foot again, though there was trepidation in his eyes now, and Jaime saw little Aegon’s head, or what had remained of it. Jaime charged, pushing the dishonourable knight away from the crying girl, sending them both into a brawl of crossing swords, soon joined when Joffrey sent more red coats to stop his uncle. Luckily for Ser Boros, because he would last but a moment against Jaime on his own.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” Ned’s powerful voice boomed and echoed around the throne room. His blood roared in his ear as he saw his daughter sprawled on the floor beneath the shadow of the throne. Terrifying memories flooded him, memories of walking into this very same room and watching what Lannisters had done to their enemy’s children. He tore out his cloak, going to Sansa, who held on to him, sobbing. Ella took over, kneeling down best she could, holding the girl in her arms as Ned stood back up. “Guards! Seize that man!”

The redcoats were at a loss of what to do. They were Lannister men, but Ned was Hand of the King. The Stark men with Ned, though, didn’t think twice before advancing against the knights brawling. Noticing they were closing in, Ser Boros tripped Jaime and ran from the room. Jory ordered the pursuit as Ser Barristan and other two Kingsguards arrived. More Stark guards arrived with a few Starling and Manderly men. Lord Manderly himself came into the room, panting after obviously having run all the way here.

“Let the ladies go. Now!” Ned commanded in an icy voice.

“They are acting on my—” Joffrey started, but froze and took a step back once the Northerner turned his furious glare at him. Silver came into the room, snarling lowly in clear threat and Joffrey stepped away, fear flooding his features at once. The red coats let go of Margaery and Allyria immediately, stepping back with their heads low.

“Ser Barristan,” Ned called, “Prince Joffrey is tired and in need to return to his chambers. He will be too tired and in need to remain there, without receiving any visitors, until the King calls for him.” Barristan nodded and motioned for the Kingsguards with him to take the Prince, leading the group out of the room. “Lord Manderly, if your men would be kind enough to escort these red coats to a room where they can wait to be heard from.” The Lannister guards only lowered their heads and followed, aware they couldn’t refuse. “Court is dismissed. Now!” Ned yelled, making people scramble away. Addam and Daenerys walked in and he clenched his hands as he took the scene in. “Addam, escort the ladies to the Tower of the Hand, please.”

“Who?” was all he asked.

“Joffrey.” Ned’s nostrils flared. “Keep them safe as I deal with this.”

“Ned, what are you going to do?” Ella asked, still kneeling next to Sansa.

He pulled the badge of his office from his chest, uncaring that it ripped his jerkin apart. “I will not take this insult. Ella, you start packing. We’re leaving as soon as possible. Addam, you have command of the Household Guard.”

Addam looked to Allyria. “What happened?” he asked, seeing her swollen face.

“I'm fine. Some ice and I'm good as new,” she said, waving his concern off.

Sansa cried out in pain as Ella and Margaery tried to help her up, so the knight knelt down. “Sansa, can I check your ribs?” he asked in a soft voice. She held on to her stepmother and nodded through tearstained eyes. Addam helped her lie on her back and touched her middle as delicately as he could. “I'm no maester, sweetling, but I think you got at least one broken rib. You shouldn’t walk. Is it alright if I carry you?” she nodded and Addam raised his head to Ned. “Go do what you have to do. I’ve got them.”

Ned nodded as Jon and Robb came running into the room as well. The oldest immediately ran to his wife, but other than a rumpled sleeve, Margaery was fine and waved off his concern.

“Boys, I want everyone back in the Tower and packing. Ella will be busy with Sansa, so Margaery and Daenerys, if you could ask Ayla and Bertha to help coordinate everything. I must speak with the King,” Ned said and with a kiss to Sansa’s forehead, he left.

“I must speak with Edric,” Allyria said, exchanging a look with her siblings. “Please, let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Ella smiled and squeezed her sister’s hand. Addam stood up and walked around Sansa, helping his sister to her feet, what her big pregnant belly would prevent her from doing herself. Then, slowly, Addam took Sansa into his arms as carefully as he could, trying to jostle her as little as possible and they walked back to the Tower of the Hand with an army of Stark, Starling, Baratheon, and Tyrell men, Silver walking ahead and barking at anyone who didn’t move out of the way.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovely readers!
> 
> Real life is taking off again, but I had a little bit of this already written and it was such a delicious chapter to write that it grew into the biggest chapter I've ever written up to now! However, I didn't have time to reply to comments -- which I hope to do starting from tomorrow. That is not to discourage any of you! I love replying to comments and getting to know what you guys think.
> 
> But anyway, this chapter marks the plot picking up for real, so I hope you enjoyed it :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Joffrey's mad attack, Robert must scramble to save face and soothe Ned's fury.

Littlefinger cursed as the throne room emptied, servants coming to carry out the two dead guards, deliver them to the Silent Sisters, and clean up the blood. He had obviously miscalculated severely. His plan had been to just— oh but perhaps this would work out perfectly! The King was bound to have been furious with the betrothal, obviously, but with Joffrey’s actions overnight, he wouldn’t blame Ned Stark. But now, with all that stacked against the blond prince, Ned Stark would either outright ask or at the very least Robert would propose something drastic to appease his friend. That was, perhaps, what would finally ignite the war!

Cersei Lannister was not the type of woman to accept that her son had done anything wrong. Regardless of what he had done to earn the punishment, Cersei would think of any actions against Joffrey as a declaration of war! And if there was something Littlefinger had learnt about their Queen was that she was fiercely protective of her children and she lacked her father’s cunning and restraint. She was an explosion waiting to happen.

In the meantime, he still had another source worth cultivating, so he scribbled a quick note, went down to the courtyard, and ordered his litter prepared.

 

_Dear Cat,_

_I am sorry to send this in writing, but I simply could not leave the Red Keep now. Prince Joffrey has just attacked the Lady Sansa before the whole Court, so the castle is in disrepair. She is not badly wounded, but I am certain she would appreciate her mother’s comforting presence. I have sent my litter for you and I am certain the High Septon will give you leave under the circumstances._

_Yours,_

_Petyr_

 

There, this would cause discomfort in the Tower of the Hand while he went to see what trouble Robert was causing. He couldn’t wait to send the raven about Joffrey’s fall to Casterly Rock! After all, Joffrey was too… unpredictable to be useful. He had been useful in creating chaos in regards to Sansa’s betrothal, but if he were ever to become king…  he would rule by whims, likely to change his mind as he changed his moods. A ruler like that would be too hard to be manipulated and the effort would probably be wasted, not to mention too dangerous. The best-case scenario now, then, was to have Joffrey disinherited and out of the picture, so Casterly Rock would rise and call their banners and finally they would have war. Not a complete loss, after all the day could still be salvaged.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

When Ned burst into the room, Jaime was already inside, speaking to a frowning Robert. The Northerner threw his badge on the desk and his cold fury was freezing the room.

“You are my friend, Your Grace, but I will not take this insult!”

“Ned, calm d—”

“Do not ask me for calm right now, Robert!” Ned yelled, furious and angry and a bit unbalanced. He could handle a lot, but he could not stomach any of his children hurt. “Your son was received with love and grace in my home and he violated that by attacking my good-daughter, nearly leading her to miscarry. Now he attacks my daughter in one of the most brutal of ways in front of the whole Court. I will not have it. I will not be insulted as such. You can keep your Kingdoms, I’m leaving for Winterfell in the morning.”

“Ned, wait!” the King called when he made to leave the room. “Lannister was telling me what happened. Please, let me speak.”

Ned exhaled, his hands still trembling in fury. “I must thank you, Ser Jaime. You were fighting that pathetic excuse for a knight, so I can only suppose you were defending my lady daughter.”

“I did nothing but the reasonable thing, Lord Stark,” Ser Jaime said. For the first time there was no trace of irony in his voice and Ned noticed how the right side of his face was bruised. “I only wish I had gotten there sooner.”

“Ned, I will not let this go unpunished,” the King insisted.

“Oh, I'm sure. You will give me Ser Boros’ head, which I am demanding anyway, but then that will be it!”

“Ned, listen—”

“All due respect, Robert, but I will not accept a mere apology. I followed you to war, twice, without hesitations, because I believed it was the right thing to do. This is not war, this is pure dishonour, and I will not have it. No one messes with my family. I lost a sister because of a crown prince, I will not lose a daughter because of another!”

It was the right thing to say. Robert stiffened. “I promise you won’t. Would you call for a trial?” he asked, picking up the Hand badge from the table and extending it to Ned yet again.

But the Northerner was not so easily appeased. “My lady wife returned to the Tower of the Hand and has already started to pack. We’re leaving in—”

“Wait until the trial, Ned. While you draft that little cunt’s disinheritance. Then I won’t ask you to stay if you really wish to go.”

Ned faltered. “Disinheritance?” He had toyed with the notion that morning when Joffrey’s actions against the whore came to light, but he had known it was too premature. But to have Robert suggest it…

Jaime felt ice sinking in the pit of his stomach. He had known, after the spectacle he had witnessed in the throne room, that Joffrey would be in for a severe punishment. It was what had led him to come tell Robert immediately, to try and break the news gently so the King wouldn’t be so enraged with the ‘son’ he already disliked so much. He had even cogitated, after Joffrey’s continued mad behaviour of late, that he might lose his title and his place in the succession, but Jaime very much intended to have the boy shipped off to Casterly Rock before anything could be decided. But Joffrey’s offence, so public and so grave, had been the last straw for Robert. The boy — already hated by Robert and disliked in Court — had threatened and publicly beaten up the lady daughter of Robert’s best friend with no cause other than his own amusement. There would be no saving him from that.

“Yes,” Robert continued, oblivious to Jaime’s inner turmoil. “He went too far for the last time. Let’s see how long he laughs now.”

Ned nodded. “Seven days, Robert. I won’t take another insult, as small as it might be.”

Robert nodded solemnly. Ned took his badge back and stomped out of room, still burning with anger.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned was drumming his fingers on the desk, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Benjen had tried to argue in favour of leaving immediately, but Ned was more in favour of seeing Joffrey disinherited and so the younger brother agreed and the packing had halted. He was sitting in his solar with his two older sons, as Benjen coordinated the guard with Jory and Ella was with Sansa as she was tended by Maester Byren.

“I can take the children and Ella north before the trial, Father,” Jon offered. “My captain said we can set sail with tomorrow’s afternoon tide. And Aunt Ayla will be there on the same ship for support, since our stepmother should be resting, not travelling.”

“Thank you, son.” Ned exhaled. “And I would be delighted to accept. But I can’t. Sansa will need to be here for the trial and since the King has asked me for this long I shouldn’t offend him. Besides, I do want to see the blond cunt disinherited.”

Robb snorted. “I would have thought we owe the King no deference in this matter.”

“We don’t,” Ned agreed. “But he is still the King and as my lady wife loves to remind me, we’re playing a game of politics. Let him have his trial. I will draft Joffrey’s Decree of Disinheritance and I will have the greatest pleasure to see it signed and sent to Casterly Rock with the little fallen prince. Let Cersei Lannister choke on it.”

Addam came into the solar. “They’ve caught the false knight — and I refuse to call that a Kingsguard on principle. We’ve got a few banged up guards, but nothing permanent. It seems Ser Boros had some friends in the castle that tried to help him escape, but well, I might have shared with Jory some strategic passageways over the years. He was trying to get to the harbour, certainly to board anything that was setting sail, but Jory and his men managed to cut his escape short.”

“I’m sure Jory has already sent him to the black cells,” Ned said as he clenched his jaw and curled his fists in deep-welled fury.

Addam felt his lips twitch into as much of a smile as he could manage in this situation. “I might have told him to lose the key.”

“I don’t want a lost key,” Ned said. “That man was beating up my daughter. I want him on his knees as I cut off his head!”

“I know that and no one is judging you,” Addam countered. “But if Ser Boros is tried before Joffrey, as he was the one who actually did the beating, it will deflate Joffrey’s guilt in the eyes of the people. If he’s tried after, either people will be gossiping about Joffrey too much to care about a disgraced Kingsguard or they will want a more severe judgement because Joffrey got off lightly. Either way, it’s Joffrey I want to see in disgrace.”

Ned nodded, agreeing with his logic. “How is your sister?”

“Unshaken,” Addam replied. “Said that what she was most angry about was that there were too many guards for her to handle with her dagger.” He chuckled. “Anyway, did you organise the charges yet?”

“Aye. We have a dead Stark guard and a dead Tyrell — Margaery said they did nothing, so I'm certain we can get witnesses to that. Jaime Lannister came in defence of Sansa, so that is something heavily in our favour. Besides, even she was guilty of treason, Joffrey had no right to do as he did. I’m only waiting for Maester Byren to finish tending to Sansa so he can write everything down. I'm furious enough that I think that I will only snap the quill broken. Or my letters will be blurry.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jaime eyed the paper before him, thinking about how to convey everything into words. More than that, into a small raven message. Cersei would obviously be furious however he wrote it, but how do you tell the love of your life that your son had behaved terribly, had already lost his crown, and was going to be on trial for his life?

 

_Dear Cersei,_

_Joff was furious that Sansa Stark was betrothed to Edric Dayne and attacked her before the Court. I could not stop him. To keep Ned Stark from resigning and leaving, Robert ordered Joff’s disinheritance and trial. I will try, Cersei, but I do not know if I can get him to you._

_Love,_

_Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard_

 

There, simple and to the point, though Cersei would still hate him and possibly blame him. As if Jaime ever had any influence over the son he had never been able to claim. He sighed. He was tired. So tired. He had now failed his son. His firstborn and Jaime couldn’t even protect him. What was the point of anything anymore?

On his way to the rookery, Jaime cut through Maegor’s Holdfast and was not in the least surprised that, even though one of his sworn brothers was keeping guard at Joffrey’s door — a duty he would never be assigned to — there were also two Stark guards, one Dayne, and one Tyrell: all the offended Houses guarding their offender. It would be impossible to get to Joffrey this way. Perhaps an escape through the service door would be possible? It was worth checking, obviously. But then, he needed to find someone who would be clever and skilled enough to get Joffrey from the castle, outside the city walls, and to Casterly Rock. That would be complicated enough, even if the man would be assured to receive a fortune from Tywin Lannister. He sighed once more. What a fucking nightmare.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Catelyn was twisting her hands in agony the entire way from the Sept of Baelor to the Red Keep, thinking about her sweet girl broken and beaten. The entrance to the Tower of the Hand was heavily guarded, but one of the men led her up to a large room where Ned was pacing, Robb, Benjen, the boy, and his guard, waiting with him.

“How did you know to come?” Robb asked.

“Lord Baelish, no doubt.” Ned snorted. “He started all this. I hope you’re happy, Catelyn.”

“Whatever do you mean, Ned?” she asked, confused.

“I mean that I asked you for discretion on Sansa and Edric’s betrothal, but you had to go and tell your friend!” Ned snapped, visibly furious. “And he came back to the Red Keep and went straight to tell Joffrey, who still believed Sansa was to be his bride. The little prince then was offended and did what he did. Gods, I could strangle Baelish right now!”

Catelyn was shocked. Petyr wouldn’t have, would he? Why, when he had been nothing but a loyal friend? There had to be more to the story. Before she could speak again, though, a Kingsguard came into the room.

“Lord Stark, I am deeply sorry for what happened.”

“Thank you, Ser Barristan. Please tell me he is locked up.”

“He is, my lord. I’ve organised the Kingsguard to stand at his door — minus Jaime Lannister, obviously — and Lord Crystark suggested we leave Stark, Dayne, and Tyrell men as well. Jory has set two of your men at the servant’s passages and everyone is being monitored. I doubt he will escape even if I am certain there will be a good number of lords trying to smuggle him to Casterly Rock.”

“Good, good. Anything else?” Ned asked.

“The Grand Maester finished his examination of the girl found in Prince Joffrey’s room this morning. I can tell you later if you would prefer.”

“No, tell me now and I shall have it added to his charges.”

“What is this now?” Robb asked.

“Joffrey was gifted a whore last night. The girl was found beaten up this morning,” Ned said. “How is she, Ser Barristan?”

“Dead. She was beaten up with a club, a staff, or something equally heavy, the Grand Maester said, and though she wasn’t bleeding much on the outside her spleen was ruptured and she bled out inside her own body.”

“Poor girl,” Addam said.

“She was a whore, not a girl,” Catelyn said.

“She was a human being, regardless of her profession, and did not deserve to be attacked as such, especially not for the amusement of a boy,” Ned said. “Find out if she had a family, so the Crown can give them compensation. Other than that, this is one more reason for me to want to strangle Lord Baelish.”

Ayla came down the stairs leading to the family chambers, both hands on her baby bump, drawing all eyes from the room.

“Maester Byren went to wash up. He said Sansa will be fine,” she said and there was a collective sigh of relief. “She has two broken ribs and another two were bruised; her wrist was twisted and two fingers were also broken, but other than that, only cuts and bruises.”

“Can I see her?” Ned asked.

“The Maester gave her something to sleep, since she was still agitated and she needs rest, but I’m certain she would like to see you, my lord. And I think you and Addam could help in making Lady Stark go have some rest as well.”

“I want to see my daughter,” Catelyn said.

“I’ll check if she wants to see you,” Ned said, but didn’t stop her when she followed him up the stairs. It was Arya who opened the door when he knocked and she turned inside.

“Sansa, it’s Father and Addam, can they come in?” Apparently, the girl had said yes because Arya opened the door further to let them in. “Ella!” she exclaimed, though, rushing back inside. “I can do that.”

“What’s the matter?” Ned asked.

“I was just propping her up,” Ella waved their concern away. “Is that better, love?”

“Yes, Ella, thank you. Father, please, take her to rest,” Sansa said. “Aunt Ayla said you were overdoing yourself.”

“Sansa is right, Ella,” Daenerys said, “go rest, we’ve got it from here.”

Ned crossed to the bed and took Sansa’s unhurt hand in his. “Are you sure you are feeling better?”

“I will be fine, Father. The Maester said nothing permanent happened.”

“Good,” Ned nodded. Then he sighed. She looked so breakable, lying there on the bed.

“I washed off your necklace, Sansa,” Margaery said, coming from the dressing room. “Do you want it now or should I put it aside?”

“I want it,” the girl replied and Dany helped Margaery put it in place as Arya held Ella back from helping.

“My sweet girl,” Ned started — seeing her so vulnerable made him want to get her out of the city right this moment. “I do not wish to trouble you, but… the King will hold a trial for Prince Joffrey in seven days.”

“Will I have to be there?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Ella said, though all of the adults knew it would be better if she was.

“Your stepmother is right,” Ned said. “Jon said he can take you north on the _Lady Daenerys_ tomorrow if you wish and I am sure Robb won’t mind leaving now to escort you to Winterfell.”

“Whatever you like best, Sansa,” Margaery said, knowing she would have to part from her family days sooner than anticipated, but that didn’t matter.

“There is no rush now,” Ella said. “Get some rest, Sansa, and think on it fresh afterwards.”

“I will,” Sansa agreed, “if you will rest as well, Ella, please. You did more than enough today and both Maester Byren and Aunt Ayla told you to go to bed.”

The woman chuckled. “Fine, I will go. But if anything happens…”

“We are not leaving her side,” Dany said, “you don’t need to worry.”

“And Sansa has a mother to care for her,” Catelyn said from where she had been standing at the door. She was deeply uncomfortable, even hurt and angry, that her daughter cared so much about this woman. This stranger, this common woman who came from nowhere to take her place.

“Mother!” Sansa exclaimed and beamed. “You came!”

Reassured by the smile, Catelyn came closer to the bed. “I came as soon as I heard, my sweet girl.”

Sansa’s eyes begun to drop as the potion begun to have effect.

“You rest now, love,” Ned said, kissed her forehead, and stood from the bed. Ella squeezed Sansa’s hand, unable to bend over, and allowed her husband to lead her out of the room.

“I’m going to be standing right outside, Sansa,” Addam said. “Right within screaming distance.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” she whispered, more sleeping than awake now. Addam smiled, touched, and left to take his post.

Catelyn yelped in shock, then, while the others chuckled. Sansa laughed, delighted.

“Oh, now I know I’m completely safe!”

Silver purred as the young women petted his head and then jumped on the bed and curled up on the foot, putting his head on his paws and clearly getting comfortable for a nap.

“That’s… that is… that is huge!” Catelyn said, in shock. She had last seen the direwolves, on the day she left the Midnight Fortress, over two years ago, when they were still puppies.

“This is Silver,” Arya said. “Robb and Jon brought him from beyond the Wall. He is Father’s.”

“Lady Arya,” Bertha called from the door, “Syrio is here.”

“Oh! I had… I forgot he was due today!”

“Go, Arya,” Sansa said, nearly asleep now. “I’m not alone. Besides, I know you, you want to hit something.”

Arya hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Catelyn frowned, finding the new relationship between her daughters strange, so different from what it had once been. What had changed so in their lives?

“Yes,” Sansa insisted, her words slurred with sleepiness. “Dany, Marge, and Mother will keep me company. Silver is here and Uncle Addam is at the door. I…” She yawned. “I will be fine. I won't even notice you're not here. Sleepy.”

“Alright,” Arya said and her mouth opened in a slow smile. “I do have the urge to hit someone. And since I can’t hit Joffrey, I will go and spar.”

“Who is Syrio?” Catelyn asked, frowning.

“My tutor in swordsmanship,” Arya said, her chin raised in defiance, knowing it was time her mother knew about it.

“What?!” Catelyn didn’t disappoint. “You are a lady! You have no business playing with swords!”

“Father obviously disagrees,” Arya said. “Or he wouldn’t have been spending gold for the past three years to pay Syrio to teach me.”

“You are a lady! You belong in a parlour, embroidering—”

“I hate embroidering!” Arya exclaimed. “It’s silly and I can’t do it. And stop telling me I have to be this silly maiden in a tower brushing my hair and waiting for a prince to come and offer me a song! I am not! I'm different than Sansa!”

“You obviously are!” Catelyn snapped back, offended. “Your sister would never be so rude!”

“And you wonder why I don’t go to see you!” Arya exclaimed. Then she turned around and left the room, stomping loudly and forcefully. Sansa was already asleep by then and Margaery and Daenerys looked away to not make the situation worse. Her hands shaking, Catelyn sat by her daughter and fussed with her hair, looking away from the judging eyes of the two young ladies.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

When Sansa woke up, it was pitch dark outside and the room was lit only by the fire crackling comfortably in the fireplace. Silver had moved to the ground, where he was delighting himself with his dinner, and the girl looked to her side to find her sister lying awake, her grey eyes staring at the ceiling.

“Are you in pain?” Arya asked, sitting up once she saw the movement.

“No,” Sansa said, trying to sit up. “Well, yes. Only when I try to move.”

“Well, then, best be quiet. Want me to send for the maester?”

“Not right now, no. I'm starving, though. Could you…?” Sansa started but Arya was already moving, going to the table. She took the little bowl of soup and set it by the fireplace to warm and then brought the fruit bowl to the bed. “Where is everyone?”

“Ella felt some pain as she tried to stand, so she’s been put in bed rest, Father is there trying to insure she will behave — Aunt Ayla said she is fine!” Arya insisted when Sansa widened her eyes. “But you know her, she is stubborn. Dany and Margaery begun to fall asleep on their feet so Jon and Robb came and collected them. Mother also fell asleep so Aunt Ayla had a room prepared for her. In her defence, she only agreed to go when I said I would stay.”

Sansa nodded and picked a grape from the clump. “Did… did I hear you two arguing as I was falling asleep?”

Arya sighed and threw an apple from one hand to the other for a moment as she gathered her thoughts.

“Taking the risk of bringing back old feelings, but there was a time that the two of us in the same room would always end up in a fight, let alone sitting so close.”

“We grew up, Arya,” Sansa said softly.

“I know that’s a part of it,” the youngest muttered.

“But?” Sansa prompted.

“You won't… you won't remember. You were too absorbed in the praises and dreaming about songs and princes,” Arya said and her sister blushed. “But every time Septa Mordane complimented your embroidering, she turned around and told me how mine was awful, how I should learn to be a good lady like you, how I was rude and ill-tempered and so on. She mocked me when I would prefer to read history books rather than the Seven Pointed Star and she would point out how devoted to the _true_ gods you were. And Mother…” Arya sighed. “Every time I asked to go riding with the boys she looked as if I had just offended her deeply. She made sure I was never close enough to ask directly to Father. When she did allow me to go riding, it was only in the courtyard and never astride. You remember that day Dany was making her own breeches, how Father was so quick to agree. But before that, she would always block it. And she would turn and tell me how, if I didn’t learn to be a good southern lady like you, if I didn’t worship the Seven and learn to embroider and so on, then I would be unhappy. Rude, impolite, has no skill in the proper arts, that is what they always told me. That is what I heard every day before the King came to Winterfell.”

“Mother was only worried about you, Arya,” Sansa said hesitatingly. “All she did, she did it because she cared.”

“I believe that.” Arya sighed. “But she was so consumed with the idea of the perfect southern lady, who waits in a tower brushing her hair for her prince to come and offer her a song, that she couldn’t love me as I am. You remember the first thing Ella said when we met. Fine, she was trying to endear herself to us, but she allowed us to be ourselves. She allowed me to go riding, you to do your embroidering. Father hired Syrio without me even asking, because he saw Needle and he understood that was who I was. He still wants me to marry a high lord and be lady to his castle, but… but he sees _me_. When Mother heard about Syrio all she could say was that I had ‘no business playing with swords’ and…” She snorted. “I’m tired of hearing her telling me to be you. Even if she loves me, she doesn’t love who I am.”

Sansa bit her lip, thinking, but then gasped and quickly released it. It was still sore from when she had bit into it earlier in the throne room. There had been a reason neither she nor Arya had told their mother about their daily rides or about Syrio even before what had happened at the Sept before their father’s marriage to Ella, because they knew that Catelyn wouldn’t understand. And Arya was right, Sansa had never stopped to think about it — like she hadn’t thought about a lot of things before — but Septa Mordane and Mother were always complaining about Arya, even saying that Sansa and Jeyne mocking the younger sister was because Arya was unable to behave properly.

“Have you told her that?” the redhead asked.

Arya sighed. “I might have thrown on her face that was the reason I didn’t visit her anymore. I just… she is our _mother_. But I…”

“Maybe try telling her that, Arya,” Sansa suggested. “You never know what she will say.”

Arya shrugged, but then closed the subject when she stood up to get the soup next to the fireplace. Filled with its warmth, Sansa fell asleep again, comforted with Arya holding her unhurt hand and Silver’s weight on her legs.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Catelyn only waited for Sansa to fall asleep again that morning before leaving the room. Her daughter was safe and the girl and Lady Margaery were there, so she could look after her other daughter’s interests. Ned was with the maester in his solar and didn’t seem very enthusiastic to see her.

“Why are you paying some fool to teach Arya to handle a sword?” she demanded.

Ned rolled his eyes. “He is not a fool, his name is Syrio Forel and he is a reputable swordsman.”

“That name sounds foreign,” she said accusingly.

“Bravoosi, aye.”

Catelyn was even more upset. “Is it not enough that you’re allowing her to learn the way of a blade, you invite a foreigner to teach her!”

“Wait a moment, you are only discovering this now?” Ned asked, frowning. “The girls never told you before?”

“The foreigner arrived as Arya was with Sansa yesterday,” Catelyn said. “But that doesn’t change anything. I know I’ve been… away, but our daughter has no business handling a blade!”

“I’m not having this argument with you, Catelyn. Arya enjoys her lessons so she will continue to have them.”

“What lord will want her when she has ideas no lady should have? Or do you intend to give her a holdfast to rule in her own name? Because that is preposterous! A woman has no place ruling…”

“Lady Mormont would be deeply offended, I'm certain. So would Lady Dustin, and those are the ones I can name off the top of my head,” Ned said. “But no, I do not intend to give Arya a holdfast to rule. I will find her a good husband who loves her as she is.”

“I have tried and tried to turn her into a proper lady but you have undermined me at every turn!” Catelyn exclaimed. “First that madness with riding astride, wearing breeches, now this nonsense about swords! She should be playing with dolls and embroidering!”

“Arya is a daughter of the North and she is true to her blood,” Ned said, his face stormy. “And I have told you this once before, this is how things are done in the North!”

“No one can love a girl who plays with swords!”

“Funny you should say that. Because the _King_ would tell you that he waged a war because he loved a girl who played with swords!” Ned snapped back and Catelyn recoiled as if she had been slapped. “Arya is a daughter of the North, a daughter of Winterfell, she has the wolfsblood, and she will be raised as such. _Sansa_ loves dolls and embroidering and I found her a gentle husband to appreciate that. I will find a husband worthy of Arya as well.”

“Well, then you had better look into the Stormlands,” Catelyn snapped. “But best beware if Viserys Targaryen crosses west and has the same predilections as his dead brother. Perhaps they will wage another bloody war over the heart of a not lady-like woman!”

She turned away and stomped out of the room. Ned exhaled an angry breath, punching the table to vent.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am overwhelmed with the love I received after last chapter! It certainly is what got me through this mad weeks of finals jitters, so thanks you thank you thank you! It is also the reason I was able to write this chapter so fast even while studying like a mad person :D
> 
> So keep the comments coming and I will reply to every single one of them as soon as I can. It's exactly 11 days till semester is over and I'm free to enjoy my beautiful and anxiously expected summer break! Give me incentives guys :D


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin hears about what's happening in the capital while, in King's Landing, Joffrey's trial takes place.

Tywin looked at the ocean spread endlessly outside his window. He was not the sort of man given to useless contemplations, but if he had one guilty pleasure, it was to watch the water break at the surf.

His son’s raven lay on his desk, a new source of concern. But he went on calculating, as he ever did. _Legacy_ , it was what he had preached from the beginning, from when he was still trying to rid their family name from his father’s stupidity and weakness. _People die, legacy remains_ , he thought. He turned around to gaze at his second, and last, guilty pleasure: a luxurious painting of Joanna, his beloved Joanna, one of the few flights of fancy he had allowed himself.

“He is indeed his mother’s son, Joanna,” he said out loud, as if conversing with his dead wife. “Unpredictable and too sure of himself. But he is a Lannister, my love, our very own grandson. I cannot allow his disgrace.”

“Raven from King's Landing, my lord,” the maester announced and delivered the message before leaving just as quickly.

 

_Dear Lord Lannister,_

_I regret to inform you that, although we have been able to camouflage his smaller misdeeds, Prince Joffrey has done two big controversial things at once. First, as he had mentioned his desire, I gifted him one of my finest girls. Before I could help in covering it up, servants found the girl beaten and bleeding in his room. She came to die later on the day and we know how strongly our King feels in this regard. Then he brutishly had one of his guards attack Sansa Stark before the whole Court. If he had attacked anyone else, there might have been a chance, but he attacked Lord Stark’s daughter and there will be no reprieve. The King is furious with both deeds and will demand his disinheritance. I will work with Ser Jaime to have Prince Joffrey sent to you before the trial, but I fear I will certainly fail._

_Your servant,_

_Lord Petyr Baelish_

 

“Oh, the plot thickens,” Tywin mumbled to himself.

He wished he knew more, but although Lord Baelish had fit way too much already in a raven scroll given his small print, the parchment was only so big. He had received reports, even from Kevan, that Robert was losing his patience with Joffrey’s whims. It seemed that waking up to news that his son had beaten a whore to death and later on the day had his best friend’s daughter beaten up, the daughter of a Great House…

“Joffrey has made his own bed, Joanna. Not even I can save him, not without looking weak. This is not a war worth fighting, because we have no ground to stand on. How can I call our House offended when it was Joffrey that offended the Hand of the King’s daughter? How can I blame Ned Stark for his outrage when one of the reasons I had resigned the Handship was because Aerys belittled our beloved daughter? However much I hate Lord Stark, I must concede that he is right. But our legacy… our legacy _must_ prevail. And if Joffrey is unfit, if he has become a liability, then it is time to invest in Tommen.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “That notwithstanding, Ned Stark is an annoyance that must be removed. Oh, but this is wonderful, actually!” Tywin smiled. “We can turn this to our great advantage Joanna. Losing Joffrey will be worth it if I can turn it to our profit! All I have to do is make sure Joffrey will do what’s right when the time comes! And Stafford is there, he can run interference!”

He picked up parchment and quill to compose his message. There was still a way to salvage Joffrey’s crown (though that was not his priority), their family’s honour, and get rid of Ned Stark, all in one simple move. And he would not let it pass him by!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Sansa looked at her reflection on the mirror. Her hair was an absolute disaster, but there was no helping it after seven days abed.

“How long do you think before my little sibling is born?” she asked Ella, who was brushing her long locks.

“Not long, I hope. About a moon, I think.”

There was a knock on the door and Catelyn stopped putting together Sansa’s clothes and allowed Addam in, though she didn’t seem pleased to do so.

“I’ve got you something,” he said, coming to kneel before Sansa as she sat on the bench. “You’ll need to recover before you can learn how to use it, but by then I’ll probably be gone up north so I thought to give it now.”

He offered the thin box and helped Sansa open it — she still had one hand wrapped in bandages and in a sling. She gasped, Ella smiled softly, and Catelyn snorted.

“Is she to learn to swing a sword as well?” the redhead asked with a sneer.

“If she wants to, I’ll be delighted to teach her,” Addam answered. “But you aren’t your sister, Sansa, and that’s not the sort of thing you like. There’s nothing wrong with having a hidden dagger and using it if you must protect yourself, though.”

“She will have guards for that,” Catelyn said.

“She had a guard three days ago,” Ella said. “It didn’t help much.”

“I doubt Lord Dayne will enjoy hearing about his betrothed handling a blade,” Catelyn insisted.

“There is a huge difference between daggers and swords, you do know that, don’t you?” Ella provoked.

“This is only for emergencies, Sansa,” Addam cut through their bickering. “Lady Allyria also has one, but she said she knew you didn’t and there were too many guards for her to get both of you free. So if you’re worried about that, you know Lord Dayne is not a hypocrite. He wouldn’t forbid you from something he allows his aunt, who grew up as a sister to him, to do.”

Sansa looked at the blade, remembering the maelstrom of emotions that had gone through her mind that day in the throne room. How Allyria had indeed tried to get them out, but it had been too chaotic.

“Where would I carry it?” she asked, fingering the dagger. “People will see it in my dress.”

Addam chuckled. “No, they won’t. Did you see it in Allyria’s?”

But Ella took Sansa’s hand and raised it to the folds of her dress, over her expanded waistline. The girl gasped as she felt the volume and was shocked as she pulled a dagger out.

“In almost three years, did you ever see it in any of my dresses?” Ella asked softly.

“No,” Sansa said in a whisper. Then she returned her stepmother’s dagger and turned to Addam. “How do I use it, Uncle?”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The throne room was filled to the limit, all of the nobles in King's Landing and those who had been able to make the journey in so little time converging there. It had been first brought to a moment of shocked silence and then rose into excited gossip when Stannis walked in after three years away from Court. Now it was once again being brought to silence as people opened the way. Ned and Ella were leading the group, but it was Sansa’s appearance at the doors that had halted the whispers into a sepulchral silence. To Catelyn’s dislike, and even Ned’s discomfort, the girl had insisted on attending and not hiding her injuries. Her eye was a bit swollen and still purplish from the slap she had received, her lip barely healed, and her arm still in its sling. The steps down into the room would be painful on her ribs, but she had insisted to take them, showing that she had some Stark stubbornness as well. The first one almost made her lose her balance, but then a hand was offered to her and Sansa looked up to see Edric smiling at her, offering support. She knew the gesture was more than kindness to help her, it would also show that, despite of Joffrey’s actions, they were unwavering. So, with an answering smile, she took his hand and leaned heavily on him to take the remaining steps.

Ned led the way to the front of the room, though he remained with his family rather than taking his position to the right of the throne. Once the whispers begun to rise again, they were inflamed as Joffrey was escorted into the room by his guard: three Kingsguards, two Stark men, one Dayne, and one Tyrell.

Ned was still anxious. Though he had drafted the Decree of Disinheritance and Robert had signed it the day before, Court had been called “by the King’s wishes” and no one outside the Small Council knew about it. He wouldn’t believe it until Robert sat upon the Iron Throne and declared it before the audience. At this point, if Robert wavered, Ned was prepared to petition in front of the whole Court to have Joffrey sent to the Wall, and damn the consequences.

It seemed that the time it took for the King to arrive was endless. Robert crossed the room unseeing, only looking at the others once he had taken his seat on the throne. Seeing Stannis was intriguing, to say the least, since his brother had simply vanished with no cause and reappeared just as suddenly. But it was seeing Ned standing in the gallery, away from him, away from the throne, that got to him: Ned was making a statement that, in this case, he was not going to act or react from his position as Hand of the King, but as Lord Stark of Winterfell, ready to defend his daughter’s honour. By leaving if need be.

It was a controversial, unpopular, and troublesome move what he was about to do, unseat his eldest son. Even if Joffrey, at fifteen name days old, hadn’t been officially named the Crown Prince, that was a mere formality, a party supposed to be held on his sixteenth name day to celebrate his official majority. Pomp and circumstance. To set him aside, regardless of good reason, would be an insult to Casterly Rock and there would be consequences to that, even if Tommen was to become the next in line. He signalled for the herald to call for attention, though. It was time to get this done and over with.

From the gallery, sitting with the rest of the Small Council — minus the Lord Hand —, Lord Baelish was sitting back and observing. He was calm, because he knew the probable outcome. Tywin Lannister’s plan, which he had received and managed to pass along to Joffrey, was sound and well-thought, as befit the Lord of Casterly Rock. And it was so simple, because it was the expected reaction from all parties involved. The only way it _wouldn’t_ work was if Joffrey messed it up. And that, Littlefinger knew, Tywin had already accounted for.

“We are gathered here,” Robert started, “because of the sorry excuse of a spectacle my eldest son put on seven days ago. Grand Maester Pycelle, if you would read us the charges.”

“Prince Joffrey of Houses Lannister and Baratheon,” Pycelle started in his wheezy voice, “you stand here accused of beating the whore Rohanna to death…”

“Are we to cry over whores now?” Joffrey mocked loudly.

“Don’t make matters worse!” Jaime snapped quietly. “Wait for your turn to speak.”

Joffrey snorted, but acquiesced.

“You are accused of commanding your guard to kill Cayn, a guard of House Stark, without provocation;” the Grand Maester continued, “you are accused of commanding your guard to kill Alaric, a guard of House Tyrell, also without provocation; you are accused of undue violence against the Lady Allyria of House Dayne; you are accused of holding the Lady Margaery Tyrell of House Stark against her will; and you are accused of the brutal humiliation and unprovoked attack on Lady Sansa of House Stark. How do you plead, Your Grace?”

“This is—” Joffrey started.

“My King!” Stafford Lannister called and stepped forward. “Certainly, to accuse the Crown Prince of such grave accusations—”

“Our Master of Laws,” Robert called, “what do you think of Joffrey’s title at this very moment?”

“It is true that this is considered mere formality,” Renly said, standing up, “but the law is clear when it states that the eldest son of a king is only officially and rightfully considered and titled Crown Prince upon his sixteenth name day, age in which he is legally capable of ruling in his own name. Before that, the crown is mere expectation.”

But Jaime saw that trying to appeal to bureaucracy and fancy words would get them nowhere. Besides, Joffrey was too impulsive, too much like Cersei. He didn’t have the temper to listen and think before speaking, like Tywin and Tyrion did. The boy was bound to say something else to irritate people. Best halt this now. His hand twitched on his pommel as he lowered his voice to Joffrey again.

“What your grandfather told you to do, do it now,” he said. Joffrey looked at the sword as well and swallowed.

“Father!” he called and Court came to silence once more. “You accuse me of all this nonsense. Minor and unimportant business,” Joffrey said and Jaime thought about elbowing him hard enough to make him bite his foolish tongue. He was putting his own head on the noose! “However, to prove that this is indeed stupid and that I am your rightful heir, I demand a trial by combat.”

Court rose in agitation again. Ella felt her heart tighten. Anyone with a brain knew who Joffrey was going to appoint as his champion and she knew what Ned’s response was going to be. It didn’t help when Addam stepped forward from his position next to Jon.

“I can beat him,” he said quietly. “You are good, I know, but I can beat him.” So the choice was to be between her husband or her brother. Ella was very unhappy.

“She is my daughter,” Ned said just as quietly.

“Yes. And you’ve got her, another one, five sons, and one more child on the way, all of whom need you. It’s a stupid risk to take.”

Ella saw Ned’s set jaw and knew it was a lost argument. _So it is to be father against father_ , she thought. Her brother was sung praises as the best swordsman there was and Ned had been able to disarm him once, the one time they fought in single combat, so there was hope. And he wold spend the next few days in hard training, she would make sure of it!

“You have a duty,” Ned said in a nearly inaudible whisper. “If I lose, you are going to be much more important. He can’t get up there. You’ll be the only one to protect them.”

Before their argument could be continued, though, Robert called for order. Everyone in the room had arrived at the same conclusion, as it was so painfully obvious even before Joffrey announced it, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“I name my uncle, Ser Jaime Lannister, as my champion.”

“And I will fight for my daughter’s honour,” Ned said, stepping forward as well.

Robert looked from one to the other, dread setting in. A trial by combat was a guaranteed right for thousands of years, something that had come with the Andals even before the Targaryens had suffered their reptilian madness upon these shores, so he couldn’t forbid it without good enough reason or Court would rise in chaotic argument. It was a fact that it didn’t necessarily have to be a fight to the death, but once two men were fighting with swords, who knew what could happen!

“My King,” Stannis rose his voice, stepped forward, and cut through the noise, “I ask to make a point, if I may prevail upon the Court.”

Robert’s relationship with Stannis had always been difficult, but if anyone would know of a fucking law or honourable deed to unmake this mess, he would.

“I should be glad to hear you, brother,” the King said, though his smile was fake.

“What we have here are multiple crimes. It is Prince Joffrey’s right to demand a trial by combat, of course, and our laws must be upheld, but we have different types of crimes. For the crimes of murder — of the girl and the two guards — the Prince might name his champion from one of the Kingsguard, as he is part of the royal family. And as Ser Jaime is a Kingsguard, everything follows the law. The crime against Lady Sansa, however, was a crime against the honour of an innocent maiden, the daughter of a Great House. Our laws prescribe two ways of dealing with this issue: the first, to satisfy her honour, he must marry her with her lord father’s consent.”

“I deny my consent,” Ned said without even pausing to think. He would never subject Sansa to Joffrey’s whims, even if that meant she would be regarded as dishonoured. Though, by Edric’s reaction, the way he stood by Sansa and held her hand at this very moment, he didn’t think as much.

“Therefore, we are left with the second option,” Stannis continued and there was a hint of the shadow of a smile on his sour lips. “Since each one of us is responsible and must answer for our own honour, when the crime is against honour, the accused may not name a champion, but must fight himself. Unless either the accuser is a woman, and so that party might name a champion to fight in her name. especially, as it is the case, if said party suffers from injuries incurred by the other. Therefore, for the crime against Lady Sansa, Prince Joffrey must fight himself.”

Voices rose in agitation again and Ella exhaled in relief. She remembered Arya’s tale of what had happened at the Crossroads and she knew Joffrey never went to the training yard. Even twenty years his senior, Ned would easily put him on his back.

Jaime cursed, not caring that people heard, and Joffrey went deeply pale. Sitting with the Small Council, Littlefinger was astonished. That made him no difference — though he had expected Robert would figure out a way to prevent Ned Stark from fighting Jaime Lannister, he had certainly not expected this outcome. Oh, but this was bound to cause chaos!

“A valid point, brother,” Robert said after calling for order again. “And as you said, our law must be upheld without show of favouritism. Joffrey called for a trial by combat and so he will have one. However, since he is a boy, I think it unfair to have him face a veteran of wars, a celebrated hero. Lady Sansa might choose a champion from among her brothers who has not won any military honours.”

Daenerys breathed relieved as well, though the relief came mixed with guilt. As a knight named by the King himself and winner of two tourneys — even if the first had been an honourable deed — Jon had been just discarded by the oaf. She knew he would have volunteered, saying Robb was heir to the North and more valuable than him, but now he couldn’t. Bran was all the way in Winterfell, Rickon was a boy of seven, and Cregan had barely learnt to walk. The answer was also painfully obvious.

“Pity for Joffrey,” Arya said. “I won't mind if you name me, Sansa.”

“Don’t be silly, Arya,” Ned said.

“Absolutely not!” Catelyn exclaimed vehemently.

“If she names a girl she is qualifying herself to fight and that is what the Lannisters will say,” Ella said.

“I would still put my money on Sansa.” Arya shrugged. “Hells, I think Cregan can beat the blond fool.” Her three parents didn’t share her amusement.

Sansa looked up and Robb nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“I’m not,” he replied with a smile. “I can’t wait to break his face in half.”

“Hey, I beat him before I had any proper training,” Arya said, laughing, “Robb will finish him in one single move.”

“I name my eldest brother, Lord Robb,” Sansa announced.

“I accept the challenge, Your Grace,” Robb said, though Margaery painfully dug her nails into his arms in anxiety.

“Very well,” Robert said, “the trial is set for three days from now. Though before we go, we have one more order of business. Lord Renly, as our Master of Laws, read my latest decree to the gathered Court.”

 

_By the grace and command of His Grace, King Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, it is hereby decreed:_

_The immediate disinheritance and exile from the capital of Joffrey of House Baratheon, eldest son of His Grace and his lawful wife, Queen Cersei of House Lannister. In this manner, the next in line to the throne is now Prince Tommen of House Baratheon._

 

“Don’t react!” Jaime said, trying to hold Joffrey back as the room rose in uproar again.

“Your uncle is right,” Stafford said, coming on the boy’s other side. “Win the trial first and then you will have the gods’ will on your side to challenge the decree. Now you will only make the King angrier.”

Before Joffrey could react, Robert had already dismissed the Court and stomped out of the room. Ned led his family out as well and Jaime put his hand on Joffrey’s shoulder.

“Come on, we have three days to make a knight out of you.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

They had barely reached the Tower when Addam called Robb.

“Training begins now,” the knight said.

Robb didn’t complain. First, because cockiness was the easiest way to be defeated and second because he would never turn down a sparring session with Arthur Dayne. Obviously, everyone sat around to watch. Even the Tyrells came to offer their support and joined the audience, anxious to see the skill of Margaery’s new husband.

“Want to start easy and escalate or the other way around?” Addam asked, going for the blunted swords.

“Easy and escalate,” Robb decided.

“Then let’s start with what we all expect Joffrey’s skill to be,” Addam said with a smile.

“I’m sure Cregan is taking his mid-morning nap, Uncle!” Arya jested.

“Rickon, come on, you’re up!” Addam called, laughing.

“Oh, please, Uncle, don’t offend Rickon!” Arya exclaimed.

Everyone laughed, but the boy was more than eager. And though it was visible that Robb didn’t put his best forward, it didn’t take him more than a moment to disarm Rickon, who only laughed, bowed accepting defeat, and rushed back to Catelyn, who praised him.

Next up was Theon. The match was more balanced, obviously, but Robb also triumphed with grace. Jory was next, then Benjen — the hardest so far — and by the time Jon picked up the training sword, Robb was panting.

“Tired already, brother?”

“Still escalating, brother,” Robb laughed and attacked.

Jon chuckled and he parried and they were locked in a skilled and entrancing dance. Several moments went by without clear winner shown, then Addam picked up a wooden sword and went to the side across from Jon and surprised Robb, succeeding in tripping him and putting him on his back.

“That was a low trick!” Catelyn exclaimed. The rest were only shocked, though Ella rolled her eyes. She had seen this enough times.

“It was,” Addam agreed, giving his hand to help Robb up. “I like to believe that, since he was trained by Ser Arthur Dayne and has been a Kingsguard all this time, there is some honour to Jaime Lannister. He will spend the next three days trying to mould Joffrey into a fighter. Whether or not he will succeed remains to be seen, but you’re a fool if you think there won’t be a long line of Lannister sympathisers thinking up a thousand tricks to help the former princeling. And despite of Jaime’s potential honour, Joffrey already showed he has none. He will try to win even using low tricks. Forget the argument and the King’s fury to come, you’ll be dead by then. You need to be more than your sword, be the whole space around you.”

Robb nodded and he and Jon got into position again. It took a quarter of an hour or more for Robb to get distracted and loose his footing.

“My turn,” Ned said, coming to take the sword from Jon.

“Gimme one moment,” Robb said, panting for breath.

Margaery filled a horn of ale and brought it over and Robb drained it gratefully. Jon took a seat next to Dany and smiled as Lyanna climbed into his lap.

“You are great, Papa!”

“That last block got to you,” Dany commented, testing Jon’s arm.

He grimaced. “If he didn’t lose his footing I might have lost the next parry.”

“You men are too stubborn and proud to not endure pain if it means winning.” Dany huffed in annoyance.

“He’s stronger than me,” Jon countered.

“But you better, Papa!”

“Papa is faster, Lya,” Dany said.

“I seen it, Mama! Papa ish fast! Like Auntie Aya!”

Jon chuckled as Dany begun a light massage, grateful for the relief it brought his sore muscles. Recovered, Robb got into position again and he and Ned parried back and forth.

“I loved it when Father came down to the training yard. They were always the best days of the week. And when he and Ser Rodrik sparred… I remember going to watch them even before I could start training myself,” Jon said.

A long moment of sparring passed until finally Ned managed to disarm him. Robb exhaled, then started to breathe deeply to recover his breath. Ned smiled, coming to hug him.

“I'm proud of you, son!”

Robb only smiled as Margaery brought him a cup of the refreshing iced tea that had just been brought up to the hall. Ser Barristan and Lord Manderly came in and joined the audience.

“I said you are good, Stark,” Addam started, “but you’re a bit out of form. Still, Robb, you are not looking at the space around you. Your father nearly tripped you twice, but he decided not to. Joffrey doesn’t have formal training, so he can’t rely on parries and blocks, he will try to trick you to your back.”

“Let the boy catch his breath then,” Ned said. “Let’s have you against me.”

Addam smiled as Ella huffed. _Children_ , she thought to herself.

“Now this is a match that’s worth seeing,” Jon said with anticipation.

“Something to go into the songs, for sure,” Barristan said quietly for him and Dany to hear.

“Why, Papa?” Lyanna asked, looking up.

“Because both Grandpa and Uncle Addam are very good with a sword, little love. It’s fun to watch.”

The two men took their position and then the match started. After a complicated trance of swords, they both took a step back.

“Not as rusty as you thought, am I?” Ned provoked.

“You’ve fought better,” Addam said back and their swords crossed again.

“If you let them, they’ll spend the whole afternoon at this,” Benjen turned to Ella to say, though his eyes barely left the display of skill in front of them.

“And then they would spend the next eighteen years provoking each other, blaming another woman screaming for their interrupted brawl,” Ella said. “Let them vent. It will do them some good.”

The sparring took another pause.

“You’ve fought better as well,” Ned said, panting.

“Well, age comes to us all,” Addam replied.

“Aren’t you done measuring your egos?” Ella called out.

“Not quite yet, sister! Unless your husband is afraid of the truth.”

Ned rolled his eyes. “Perhaps you’re the one who is afraid.”

Blunt metal sung against blunt metal as they retook to the match. Finally, Addam begun to gain vantage — he spent at least two hours on the training yard every day while Ned had a desk job — and in a complicated twirl and parry, Ned’s sword fell away from him.

“I told you, Stark, you are rusty. You need to get out of your solar more often.”

“Aye, I suspect you’re right,” Ned conceded. “We’re even now, though.”

“And your rematch can wait another eighteen years,” Ella said standing up. “Robb is the one supposed to be training, big brother.”

“Right you are, little sister. Come on, Robb, you’ve had your rest!”

“You have a rest, Ser Addam,” Barristan called from behind Dany, “I would like to see how Lord Robb faces me.”

Robb smiled. “It is a great honour to spar with you, Ser Barristan.”

“Robb is seeing several boyhood dreams come true today,” Jon whispered into Dany’s ear and she chuckled.

“You see one of your boyhood dreams every day you go down to the training yard with him,” she said. “Let your brother have his turn.”

Jon only smiled and turned to kiss her temple.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Addam and Barristan had efficiently taken up Robb’s training, though what worried Ned was, like the knight had said, not skill, but trickery.

“You should go and get this off your chest,” Ella said. “This room is filled with skilled swordsmen; Robb will be fine.” She pointed with her head to where Barristan gave instructions as Robb and Garlan sparred.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, then set a hand over her bump as he kissed her forehead. Standing up, he smiled and ruffled Silver’s fur as the direwolf came to sit next to Ella.

Benjen watched him leave with a worried expression. “Knowing my brother, that is going to be an explosive conversation.”

“It’s been coming for eighteen years,” Ella said quietly. “Ned stayed quiet because of Lyanna’s death and he’s been swallowing down a lot lately, but he won’t take this one.”

“Think he’s going to resign?” Benjen asked, his voice covered by the japing men sparring.

“No,” Ella stated. “Though not for Robert’s sake. And he might say that to His Grace’s face.”

The Kingsguards had either been warned of his arrival, or Ned’s face was sufficiently stormy that they opened the door fast enough that he didn’t even pause.

“Are you drunk yet?” Ned asked as soon as he saw Robert sitting on his chair, nursing his faithful companion: his cup.

“Not yet,” the King replied. “Are you going to lecture me on drinking again?”

“No. But I very much intend to have you remember this conversation, so I can’t have you drunk for it,” he snapped, pacing the room with manic energy.

“What else could I do, Ned?”

“Not put my heir at risk!” the Northerner exclaimed. “Was it a trade? A compensation? Payback? My eldest son for yours?”

“Lady Sansa did the choosing,” Robert said inside his cup, draining it.

“Oh, is that what you’re telling yourself? That it was Sansa’s choice? You knew what you were doing, Robert! _You_ chose Robb! You made it so she could only name Robb or herself!”

“Should she have chosen the youngest one of Catelyn’s? He’s what, five? Or what about the baby? I couldn’t use the argument I couldn’t let you fight because you were a celebrated warrior and not apply it to Jon! He defeated the bloody Mountain in single combat! People would’ve said I had condemned Joffrey right there!”

“If you think I would be any less mad if you had allowed the choice between Robb and Jon, then you obviously don’t know me!” Ned snapped and the King recoiled as if he had gotten hit over the head with something heavy.

“Robb doesn’t have anything to worry about,” Robert said, wounded. “The only reason Joffrey knows which is the pommel and which is the point is because he can differentiate steel from gold and that bloody lion’s head glitters on his hip.”

“I should be the one fighting,” Ned insisted.

“I was protecting you!” Robert yelled, standing up. “Damn you! What did you want me to do, watch you and the Kingslayer fighting each other and think that it was the greatest fun I’ve had in a while?!”

Ned snorted and sneered coldly. “It is visible, then, that you truly don’t care about your family. Because you could disapprove of Joffrey’s actions, disinherit him for the good of the realm, but still love your son. You don’t know what loving your child is like, it’s clear to me now. I would die a thousand deaths before I allowed any harm on my children. I would lie and kill and throw my name and my honour to the winds if it meant protecting my family. And I pity you that you don’t care about anyone enough to do so. But know this, Robert, if as much as a hair on my son’s head is harmed because ‘you were trying to protect me’, I’ll never forgive you.”

“A trial by combat doesn’t need to be to the death,” the King mumbled, disarmed by the coldness of his friend’s tone.

“Tell Joffrey that. Because after what he did to Daenerys, when I had opened my home to him, the way he insulted me, what he did to Sansa in front of everyone, I know he has no honour. If he uses low tricks to win, I’ll kill him myself and fuck the war that will start with Casterly Rock!”

“Let Tywin start what he might want, we don’t need to worry about that!” Robert waved it off.

“You never worry about anything, Robert!” Ned exclaimed in frustration. “And, honestly, I find I have nothing else to say. It wouldn’t matter anyway.”

“Ned, wait, don’t go!” Robert called as Ned turned to make his way out of the room.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace, I’m not leaving,” Ned replied, turning back to the King. That man had once been his best friend, a boy he admired. There was nothing left of that boy in the man standing before him. If ever there was. Lyanna had been right all along. _Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature_. The boy Ned had grown up with at the Eyrie would have been incapable of this, the boy he had loved like a brother, like he loved Brandon or Benjen. Clearly, if he had ever existed, he was long gone. But Ned was finally done making excuses. “Though I’m not staying because of you. I’m staying because someone needs to save this realm from you and unfortunately nobody else has the guts to tell the truth to your face.”

With that, Ned left the room and slammed the door behind himself. Robert sat back on his chair, dejected and disheartened. He thought he was saving his friend. In the end, he had lost that friend.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It comes the day of the trial by combat.

Supper was a joyful meal that evening in the Tower of the Hand, though Ned was in a mood. Ser Barristan had to leave, but the Tyrells stayed and, while they debated skill over a roasted boar, Robb, Jon, Garlan, and Loras were planning a small mêlée for the next day.

“What tricks do you think he would use?” Ned asked Addam as they were in the family room afterwards.

“Hidden daggers that would get to Robb through the seams of his armour. A blade on the point of his boot can get Robb by surprise and slice into his leg.”

“Boiled leather around his calves would help, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” Addam said. “I’ll work with the tanner tomorrow. For this at least the awful sellsword the Imp brought with him would be useful. Jory is making sure we have strong armour and I will personally inspect the mail.”

“I wish I could say we were worrying too much.” Ned sighed. “I wish I was going up against Jaime Lannister. As much of an oath-breaker as he is, he wouldn’t have stoop down to tricks.”

Addam exhaled heavily, looking out the window, and lowered his voice. “I don’t know what you walked in on that night. And honestly, I don’t think my imagination could ever live up to the chaos. And I know Jaime vowed to defend his king. But you cannot begin to imagine what Aerys would be capable of…”

“He murdered my father and brother in a gruesome way! I think I can…”

“Aerys was too unpredictable. You can’t… only someone who _saw_ his madness would be capable of understanding the choice Jaime was faced with. What he did to your father and brother was just further proof that he had completely lost his mind. But you weren’t here, Stark, you cannot begin to understand what was the real relationship between the Mad King and Tywin. Besides, the Rebellion had been going long enough, so I wouldn’t put it past him to have a nefarious plan in place to make sure that, if the rebels got to King's Landing, they might get in, but they wouldn’t live to celebrate their victory.”

“What could he do? Order his soldiers to kill every rebel? If he had enough men for that, he wouldn’t have rebels in the capital in the first place.”

“Aerys was not one to lose,” Addam said, turning back to his good-brother. “If he was to go down, he would take the rest of the world with him. Back then, all Jaime wanted was to be a golden boy, the perfect Kingsguard. I shudder to think what mad plan Aerys ordered done for Jaime to lose it and kill the king.”

Ned was unsure of what to say for a moment and Cregan finally interrupted the awkward silence that stretched.

“Papa! Up, Papa, up!”

“Isn’t it time for bed, my boy?” Ned asked with a chuckle.

Cregan threw his little arms around Ned’s neck — or as far as he could reach — and laid his little head on his father shoulder.

“Sweepy, Papa.”

“Come on, Papa will put you to bed tonight.”

Addam watched them go, drawn back to the past. Once, he had been a man who would be like Ned, unable to accept any justification for the breaking of an oath. But he had seen what the Mad King had become, he had seen what Rhaegar and the Small Council had tried so hard to hide from the rest of Westeros during those final years. He had learnt that some oaths _had_ to be broken. Blind loyalty was as bad as treachery.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Willas poured the fortified wine in two goblets and brought them to the armchairs before the fireplace.

“You’re plotting away again, Grandmother,” he said, offering her one of the goblets.

“Well, plotting is what keeps people alive in this realm, is it not?” she jested, taking a sip. “This is very good and very strong. Where is it from?”

“New project from Lady Starling, she gifted us a bottle,” Willas smiled. “It seems one of the farms in the Blessed Island expanded the original area of wild grapes into a large production and they had a surplus so she decided to have them mix some recipes and this happened. She said she wanted something completely different from Dornish or Arbor wine. Lord Tyrion was the first tester and he seems to have approved it — and we all know his reputation. I have to admit: it is a good one.”

“Yes, but for after supper, like now,” Olenna said, twirling the wine in her goblet, “too sweet and strong to go with the meal. Very wise of her, to find something new, too. It is easy to surpass the shitty grape water the Dornish like to sell as wine, but the Arbor Gold… Nothing will ever compare. That is not a competition she can win. We should watch out for that one,” she laughed, “Lady Starling is full of ideas and very resourceful.”

“I thought you were counting on that from the beginning, Grandmother,” Willas said, sitting back and relaxing on the armchair, enjoying the wine and the fire.

“I was. And I am. They’re making quite the fortune, with their mines and trade deals, and this new wine promises to be a good investment.” Olenna chuckled. “In a few years they’ll be able to afford the Crown’s debt and wouldn’t it be ridiculously funny if Daenerys Targaryen _bought_ the throne from under Robert with money she took from lands he gave her? Oh, the irony!”

“Well, it would certainly be better than wasting money and resources in another war. But you have been plotting something for days now, Grandmother. Even before that spectacle in Court. No one else is here, you can tell me?”

Olenna frowned. “Where are them?”

“Garlan and Leonette are still in the Tower of the Hand, Father and Mother already retired, and Loras is… out.”

“Out.” She snorted. “Your brother will end up finding himself in trouble with that one.”

“He’s the King’s brother, Grandmother, he won’t get in trouble. At least not one that speaks against their House. But stop changing the subject!”

“You’ll regret that decision,” she said and chuckled. “I’m plotting your marriage.”

He twisted his face into a grimace. “Well, I know I can’t avoid it forever. And since everyone who is anyone is in the city right now, it is the best time to make proposals. Am I allowed to have an opinion?”

“Oh, my dear, you’re always allowed to have an opinion. However, I will only listen to it if it’s the same as mine.”

“I know that, Grandmother.” He chuckled. “Who have you been considering?”

“The North is on the rise, Willas, has been for a while. And if this latest development is anything to go by, Lord Stark is the most powerful man in the Kingdoms and Robert will do anything for him.”

“Margaery is already a Stark, Grandmother. Lady Sansa is, obviously, otherwise engaged. You cannot be thinking about the other daughter. She’s too young!”

“There is nothing wrong with a double alliance, even if I know Starks are honourable to a fault. I had thought about Sansa when we had first arrived in the city, but after the way her betrothal was announced… Ned Stark wouldn’t break an alliance, unless Lord Dayne had done something to offend his daughter. So no, we can no longer count on Sansa Stark. The other girl is indeed too young and, from what I have heard, too wild. She would be ill-suited to you.”

“That is not likely to stop you if you really wanted the alliance,” Willas said with a knowing look.

“Well, no, it isn’t. But I have been thinking: isn’t it about time that we settle our differences with the Manderlys?”

Willas raised an eyebrow. “You mean the House that the Garderners, whom we served at the time, kicked out of the Reach and they found solace and home in the North? Those Manderlys?”

“The very same. They found a home and lands in the North and grew to be one of their most powerful bannermen. So important that when the position of Master of Ships was vacant, Ned Stark called Lord Manderly to fill it. They follow the Seven, so it’s one less thing to worry about. And I’ve done my enquiring — his granddaughter is turning sixteen later this year, so we could have the marriage next year, with enough time to plan it. She took over the lady’s duties in Winterfell when Catelyn was sent away, so she has experience handling a household and, as she was in charge of the child, she has shown to be a good mother. She is one of Lady Stark’s ladies now, so I am certain she is well-versed in entertaining. All in all, a suitable match.”

“You’ve talked to her,” Willas said accusingly.

“Well, of course I have,” Olenna rolled her eyes. “Do you think I would consider her if I hadn’t tested her beforehand? She will be a kind and loving wife, exactly what you need, and she’s got a keen mind as well, that I could sense.”

“Alright. Will you talk with Father?”

“Well, if I must.” Olenna rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t it be much easier if I could run the family?”

“You do run the family, Grandmother,” he said with a fond smile.

“Well, thank the gods you managed to inherit my brains and not your father’s. He is too much like his own father, and Luthor was… well, given the way he died, I'm not surprised Mace is difficult. Get ready to invite the girl for a stroll in the gardens. We’re leaving this wretched, smelly city with the issue settled.”

Willas only nodded. He knew his grandmother and trusted her judgment. She would never think of an ill-suiting match. He only hoped he and this Manderly girl could get along.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Loras sneaked into the bedchamber, his good mood suffering a bit with the extra caution he had had to employ tonight: after the afternoon’s excitement, the courtiers were buzzing around the castle, gossip and laughing at Joffrey’s downfall. Not even the Lannister sympathisers were acting offended, since even Ser Jaime had come in defence of Lady Sansa, and the King had followed the letter of the law.

Renly was standing by the fire when he entered and he seemed half-worried and half-exhilarated, if someone could even feel both at once.

“What is it?” Loras asked.

“Well, that little brat is gone,” the Stormlord said. “I wish I could feel guilty for disliking my nephew, but I don’t. I think only Cersei likes Joffrey. But he is gone now — well, after the trial. And no one will ever have to suffer under his whims.”

“Won’t Tywin Lannister argue?”

“He might,” Renly conceded. “But I don’t think he will. Even Jaime came in defence of the Stark girl, there’s no saving Joffrey. Not without looking weak. And Tywin won't do that. As long as Tommen is the heir, he’ll stay put.”

“So why are you worried?” Loras asked, kneading his lover’s shoulders. “Gods, you’re tense! What is wrong?”

Renly exhaled, but leaned back to enjoy the massage. “Ned won’t be happy with Robert. Not after my brother all but ‘sentenced’ Robb Stark to fight for Sansa’s honour.”

“Joffrey has no training,” Loras pointed out. “Robb has nothing to worry about — trust me, I was just there, watching him train, sparring with him. He is very good.”

“As good as you?”

“Well, no, obviously,” Loras said, annoyed. “But he’s good. He won't find any trouble finishing the blond twat off.”

“I know. But I wouldn’t put it past Lannisters to use trickery. If they harm Robb… honestly, this mess alone might be enough to send things to shit, but if anything happens to Robb, Ned will pack up and leave — and I'm actually surprised he hasn’t left yet — and then the Kingdoms will descend into chaos.”

“But you can keep them in hand, can’t you? I mean, when Lord Stark was away, you handled everything perfectly. So if he goes… perhaps the King will finally see your valour and give _you_ the Handship.”

“I don’t know if I want that, to be honest. Besides, all these new plans and projects… Robert and Jon Arryn let us descent into a pit of debt and usury. I could keep the Kingdoms in hand, and twice, but Ned is the one with the new ideas. Not to mention he’s the only one with the guts to go against the King, to do what needs to be done and fuck Robert’s opinion. Fine, I help and all, but… especially with the new Night's Watch deal… I'm worried we’ll drown in even more debt. Robert won’t listen to anyone else, he won’t care about anything else but his wine, his whores, his hunts, and his tourneys. And if the Iron Bank comes to collect… we simply don’t have how to pay them. We can’t even raise taxes high enough for that. No one could bear it, they would only be unpaid taxes.”

“It will work out in the end, Renly. Lord Stark hasn’t left, what means he is invested in the Kingdoms as well. Besides, Robb _will_ be fine. Trust me, there is a whole bunch of people worried about him, worrying about trickery from the Lannisters.”

Loras begun kissing his shoulder, the column of is neck, and Renly groaned when he reached his earlobe.

“You need to relax,” Loras whispered.

“You are very good at that,” Renly said with a moan. Then he turned around and seized the other’s lips with his, and soon enough they were leaving their clothes scattered on the ground on their way to the big four-poster bed in the middle of the room.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

On the next morning, Stannis paid a call to Ned.

“I would like to apologise, Lord Stark,” the Lord of Dragonstone said as the two men sat down in Ned’s solar.

“Whatever for, Lord Stannis?”

“It is no secret I have retired from Court ever since Jon Arryn died. And I returned, very abruptly, to help our realm to be rid of Joffrey. I do regret that I have such a feeling towards my own nephew, but I saw the boy he is. He is not fit to be our next king. However, in my effort to do what I judged to be right, I have put your son and heir in harm’s way. That was never my intention and I do regret the outcome.”

“Thank you, Lord Stannis,” Ned said sincerely. “I do believe your intentions. And I do regret that this is how we feel about the boy, but I won't hold Robert’s decision against you.”

Stannis nodded. “There are two more reasons for me to be here. Actually, they were the reasons I came intending to speak to you, my lord, before my brother did what he did. I don’t suppose you will be shocked to learn that I believe that Lord Arryn was assassinated rather than died of natural causes.”

“I have already had this confirmation,” Ned said. “He was poisoned with Tears of Lys. And I also know he was working with you in searching for Robert’s bastards.”

Stannis rose an eyebrow. “It seems I was not very smart in my mistrust of you, then, my lord. Do you know who gave him the poison?”

“No,” Ned shook his head. “Only conjectures.”

“Well, I would bet our conjectures match,” Stannis said. “But without proof it takes us nowhere. My second point is something I would like your help in convincing my brother of.”

“I’m sure it won't surprise you that Robert and I aren’t on the best of terms right now, my lord,” Ned said, forcing himself to not clench his jaw in his anger.

“No, it is not in the least surprising, but I suppose it might be in all of our best interest. Cersei is long gone to Casterly Rock, though to appease them Robert might allow her return. And regardless of the result of the trial by combat — even if no one expects Joffrey to win it — the boy has been disinherited. This means Tommen is already the next king. Given the way Joffrey turned out, I would advocate that it would be better for everyone in the Seven Kingdoms if he were raised away from Cersei and Robert.”

Ned sat back, pursing his lips in contemplation. It was not a thought that had occurred before, but it certainly had merit… He would be the first one to speak against separating father and son, but he had to admit that, perhaps if Joffrey had been raised with a few limits, with a father that cared and a mother who taught him right from wrong instead of telling him he was owed anything he wanted, perhaps then the boy might have been saved. Even if sometimes there was no cure for a dark soul.

“Am I to assume you are volunteering for the post, Lord Stannis?” Ned asked. Taking the role himself would serve no purpose, as he lived in the Red Keep. Robb was barely married — he wouldn’t wish to saddle his son with raising a royal child while he was still learning how to raise and care for a family as he knew the toll of the task. And he wouldn’t even contemplate sending Tommen to Benjen in the Midnight Fortress — the response from Casterly Rock at having Tommen as a ‘Targaryen hostage’ would be nightmarish.

“I am not he most effusive of men, Lord Stark, but I doubt Robert even knows what the boy looks like. And Cersei strikes me as a woman who would be too consumed with herself and the firstborn to be worried about the second son. I would ensure the boy was properly raised, educated in all the necessary arts to be a competent ruler. He would understand perfectly that even a king has to answer to the law and the rules of society. My lady wife has also suggested that, if the boy feels close to his sister, we might take in the girl as well. I believe she is of an age to my own daughter. They can play together and be children or whatever.”

There was, however, something that bothered Ned. Through his investigations and Lord Varys’ reports, he had put together that Jon Arryn had discovered the true paternity of Cersei’s children and had begun to look for one of Robert’s sons or even hoping to band them all together and prove that every single child the King had had outside of his marriage bed had his colouring and therefore the Queen’s children had to be bastards. But Jon Arryn had drawn Stannis into his search. Had he only asked for Lord Stannis’ help in providing for his blood nephews and nieces, without explaining how deep his suspicions ran? Or was Stannis aware that Robert had no legal children to call heirs and therefore the Lord of Dragonstone was the heir to the throne? Did he intend to keep Tommen and Myrcella as hostages so that once Robert died he could claim the crown himself?

But no, Ned chastised himself. He had been living in King's Landing for too long. Stannis was a correct man, dutiful and honourable. He would have called for the immediate annulment of the children’s title and possibly of Robert’s marriage to Cersei. He wouldn’t have cowered in Dragonstone for three years, especially after the Queen had been sent to Casterly Rock.

“You have my support, Lord Stannis,” Ned said.

Robert had just proved he had no idea what it was like to have a child. It was better that, if Tommen and Myrcella were to have no real love from their parents, at least they would have a proper education.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Robert Baratheon, it was well known, was the personification of his House’s words. He had been upset as Ned left his chambers the other day, and his words had cut like a knife, which is why he hadn’t reacted at the time. But two days had passed and the Lord Hand had not returned, not even when the King summoned him. On the next morning, the steward had said Lord Stark ‘declared himself busy with other issues and unable to oblige’. Robert had vented and yelled but, in the end, acquiesced. Today, however, the steward returned saying he wasn’t even granted access to the Tower of the Hand and that the guards had only said Lord Stark was unavailable to pay any calls. After yelling and breaking what breakable things were within reach, Robert decided enough was enough. If the Lord Hand didn’t come to the King, the King would come to the Lord Hand. What was unacceptable was that they were not on speaking terms. So, ignoring Ser Barristan’s shy suggestion to at least wait for the trial to be done and Lord Robb to come out of it unscathed, Robert left his chambers with one clear mission: make peace with his friend.

He was drawn to the courtyard once he arrived at the Tower, though, hearing laughter and children playing. He recognised Ned’s daughters, the boy was likely his youngest son by Catelyn — who was there sitting in a far corner —, the three baby boys were likely Ned’s youngest, Benjen’s, and the third was easily recognisable with his damned silver blonde hair. The fallen princess was sitting with them, telling them a story with hand puppets that had the children entranced. And then galloping hooves drew everyone’s attention as Jon came into the courtyard, his little girl in front of him on the saddle.

“Mamma! Mamma, we seen a monkey!” Lyanna exclaimed excitedly.

“Did you, my love?” Daenerys said, standing up and helping unfasten her from the saddle. “Was it scary?”

“No, Mamma, I was with Papa! Nothing ish scawy!”

Chuckling, Dany took her from the saddle and set her down. Freed, Lyanna immediately ran to her aunts, telling them of the monkey she had seen.

“How was it in the stables?” Dany asked as Jon gave Winterstorm off to a stable boy.

“All set!” He smiled broadly. “They’ll have them ready to go when we leave. And she doesn’t suspect a thing.”

Dany chuckled. “I don’t think any other gift will ever top that one.”

“You gave her a dragon egg, love,” Jon said quietly, mindful of their whereabouts. “A ‘live dwagon waiting to clack’. Trust me, there is no competition with a _horse_.”

“We’ll talk again when she gets her own direwolf, shall we?” Dany said and they went to join the others.

Robert only watched as Jon took his son and threw him in the air, the pale hair of the boy sparkling in the sun as he laughed mirthfully. The little girl was excitedly telling a story, but then suddenly stopped and squealed with joy, crossing to the other end of the courtyard, yelling: “Gwanpa!” Ned’s laughter boomed around as he picked her up.

“A monkey, eh?” he said, highly amused. “Did you give it some food?”

Lyanna gasped, disheartened. “Papa! We fohgot! The monkey ish hungwy!”

The adults laughed as Jon solemnly promised they could bring some food to the monkey on their next ride. Rickon stood from where he was sitting with Catelyn, picking up two wooden swords.

“Father, I want to practise too! Robb is the only one practising now!” The laughter died down a bit as the reminder hovered over their heads.

“Come on, then,” Ned said. “Wish Grandpa luck, Lya?”

“Alwaysh! Sowy Uncle Rickon but Gwanpa wins!” she said, running back to Dany as she was set down.

Ned, smiling, picked up the wooden sword and the small round shield his son was animatedly giving him and waited for Rickon to get in position.

“Keep your shield up!” he warned as they parried. Rickon made an effort, but his arm kept lowering and Ned brought his sword to the boy’s neck. “You need to keep your shield up!”

“It’s too heavy!” Rickon complain.

“If it wasn’t heavy it wouldn’t stop a sword, son,” he chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Let’s go again. But keep your shield up, or I’ll ring your head like a bell.”

Rickon laughed and got in position again. Robert only watched, even as Ella came with a servant bringing food and refreshments. It was the perfect family day. It something completely foreign to him, to be honest. Siblings playing together, parents caring for their children. His own parents had died too long ago, too long for him to remember, and Stannis was never one to _play_. There was a faint memory of his mother, a kind lady, but Lord Steffon was always strict and their interactions were limited to the training yard. Though not like this, a loving teacher, but a strict tutor interested in a skilled son.

This is what he would have had. He would have taught his sons with care and Lyanna would have doted on them, as well as taught their daughters to stitch, embroider, and the other womanly arts, and Ned would have been their favourite uncle. This is what Rhaegar Targaryen had destroyed. Just as the thought occurred, as his fury begun to well and rise inside him, a gust of wind knocked over one of the posts nearby and, untethered, the banner fluttered around, hitting the King straight on his face. Robert slapped away the offending silk, scowling at the winter rose that stared back at him like a bad joke. He stomped back to his chambers, cursing lusty dragons forever more.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The morning came with a clear blue sky and shining sun, though the mood in the Tower of the Hand was tense and quiet. Breakfast was a mostly silent meal, though Lyanna was looking from one to the other, not understanding what was happening — no one was about to explain to a two-year-old girl what a trial by combat was. Their way from the Tower to the right courtyard facing the sea where the trial would take place was filled with anxiety.

“I need you to come back,” Margaery whispered once they were inside the tent, clutching Robb’s collar in her fist. “We haven’t even been married for a fortnight yet. And you gave me a beautiful name day gift we didn’t get to enjoy yet.”

“We will,” Robb said, placing a hand on her anguished face. “I will come back, we will enjoy several rides and we will have several children to make us laugh. I promise.”

“You had better!” she said. Ned and Addam cut into their moment, coming inside.

“I’m sorry, Margaery, but we need to get the armour on,” Ned said. She curved the corners of her lips in a half-smile and left, crossing the flap Jon was holding up for her.

“Prince Oberyn is here,” Jon said. “He would like to pass along his good wishes.”

Robb nodded and Jon allowed the man in. Addam rolled his eyes and only extended his hand. Oberyn smiled.

“I don’t know what you mean, old friend,” the Prince said.

“You’re not putting poison on his sword, Oby, we’re having a fair fight.”

“You, perhaps, Ser Boring and Uptight, but the boy will be fighting a Lannister. I won't bother mentioning my opinion of them.”

“What they did that night was unspeakable, Prince Oberyn,” Ned said. “And I still stand by the opinion that Gregor Clegane and Amory Loch should have lost their heads for it, but we cannot stoop down to their level. Their dishonour is not ours.”

The Dornish prince turned and stared at Ned with his black eyes closed to thin slits.

“Very well. No poisoned blade, I get it. Not that I was expecting my little gift to be accepted. But I do wish you good fortune, Lord Robb.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“You’ve been trained by one of the finest knights on this land, my lord,” Oberyn continued as Catelyn came inside. “And I’ve seen the boy training with his golden Kingslayer uncle. Not even our Addam here could whip that pathetic thing into anything resembling a warrior.”

“Isn’t Lady Ellaria waiting for you in the audience, Your Grace?” Addam asked pointedly.

“Of course. Good luck, Lord Robb.” The Prince nodded to all present and left.

“It’s time, son,” Catelyn said in a shaky voice.

“Father,” Robb said, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. “Please, don’t… I would just prefer it if you were in the audience.”

“Are you sure?” Ned asked and Robb nodded. “Alright. But son, I need you to remember one thing: it is alright to be scared.”

“I have the skill and the courage, Father,” Robb insisted.

Ned smiled sadly. “The only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid, son. If nothing scares you, bravery means nothing to you. Courage is not the absence of fear. It is the decision that something is more important than fear.”

Robb nodded and Ned patted his shoulder, leaving the tent with Catelyn.

“Do you want us to go too?” Jon asked.

“No. It’s…” Robb swallowed dry. “If you don’t mind staying with me.”

Jon only smiled and got the scabbard from the table and they left the tent.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jaime’s leg was twitching as he watched the squire put the golden armour on Joffrey. The boy was trying to maintain his air of superiority, but the knight could clearly see the trepidation and paleness and, actually, how green he was.

“You heard what the King said,” Jaime reminded his son for what seemed the hundredth time, “a trial by combat doesn’t need to be to the death.”

“So, I just have to put him on his back? That will be too easy!” Joffrey smiled falsely.

Jaime held in an exasperated sigh. He hadn’t had much hope to turn Joffrey into the finest knight — or even any kind of knight — in only three days, especially after the first sparring match they had had and with the memory of how Arya Stark had disarmed Joffrey so easily at the Crossroads Inn, throwing his old sword into the river. He had hoped to at least make sure that the boy wouldn’t be immediately taken down, that there would be some resistance, but the only resistance he found was Joffrey’s in holding his sword in any proper way. _Fucking Stannis!_ He cursed mentally for the thousandth time. If the King’s brother had remained in the dragon fortress, Jaime would be the one fighting Ned Stark and all would be well. But no, he had to come out of his self-imposed exile and screw up the simple plan they had in place. Even if Robert, in his pathetic wish to save his friend, made the stupid decision to lead Lady Sansa to name Robb, even easier for him. But now he had to stand by and watch his son face a challenge he could not win. The squire bowed and left the room and Joffrey let out a trembling breath. Now that the armour was weighing on him, it seemed that finally he had realised his dire situation.

“What happens after the trial?”

Jaime exhaled. “Robert already exiled you from the capital, so we already have a retinue set aside. We’ll get you out of the city walls and on your way to Casterly Rock before the sun sets.”

“But I’ll no longer be a prince.”

“Your grandfather will certainly challenge the decree, but by then you will be safe with your mother in the Rock.”

“And if Robb Stark wins?”

 ** _When_** _Robb Stark wins_ , Jaime thought. “As Robert said, the trial is _not_ to the death — and do not defy it, Joffrey,” he warned, knowing his uncle and others had given him tips on tricks. “So regardless of who wins, you’re leaving for Casterly Rock this afternoon. Uncle Stafford will ask for an audience with the Small Council to challenge the decree and your grandfather is only expecting word if he will need to come to the capital.”

“So Grandfather will get me my title back?” Joffrey insisted. “I will still be the next King?”

“Joff, revoking your title is an affront to our House. Your grandfather will never let it stand.”

Joffrey nodded and they remained in silence until the squire returned and said it was time. The area where the trial would take place was already crowded, the rows of audience filled with lords and ladies.

Two sides of the courtyard had shaded places where the competitors could await the trial. Joffrey chose one of the two sides and immediately sat down on one of the chairs, pulling on his collar.

“This is too hot,” he complained.

“It needs to be to protect you,” Jaime said, hiding an eye roll as he set the sword on the table. “Be glad autumn brought some relief from the heat.”

Joffrey only huffed in annoyance as the crowd swelled in murmurs. Ned Stark had just arrived, trailed by his former wife, and climbed the steps to join his current one and the rest of the family. Sansa was wearing a purple dress today, a clear statement if ever there was one, as she sat next to her betrothed. Not long after, Addam led the way, Jon and Robb coming behind. Robb took one look at his opponent and snorted.

“If he bleeds, will his blood be gold too?” he mocked. And, indeed, he had cause — with his golden hair, the only speck of any other colour on Joffrey were his green eyes.

“Tywin would have been bleeding dry annoying cousins for their value for years now,” Addam muttered beneath his breath.

Thankfully, Robert arrived then and took his seat at the dais. He looked around and was hurt for a moment at seeing Ned was not only sitting far away, but didn’t even turn his head to acknowledge the King’s arrival.

“Renly, get this over with,” he said. The other nodded and climbed down to the space where the fighting would take place and horns sounded, quietening the crowd.

“In the sight of gods and men,” Renly said loudly, “we gather here today to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this boy, Joffrey of House Lannister,” the crowd rose in murmurs again and Jaime bit back a curse. That was another clear statement. “The duel is to be only to first blood. To continue any further will be held as an offence to our King himself.” The horn sounded again and Renly climbed back to his seat.

“Good luck, brother,” Jon said as he reached for the sword on the table.

“Remember the space around you,” Addam reminded, offering the helmet.

“I will,” Robb promised, but shook his head. “That’s too heavy. This is not a battle, it will only get in my way. I’ll be faster and see better without it. Doubtful the golden brat will be able to get through my guard enough for the helmet to be essential.”

Addam nodded and put the helmet back on the table as Robb went to the middle of the courtyard before the King. Across from them, Joffrey had already put his helmet on when he noticed Robb had refused his and tried to take it off.

“Don’t be proud,” Jaime cautioned.

But Joffrey didn’t heed it and threw the helmet away, also going to the middle. Both champions bowed to the King and then turned around. Jon offered Robb his sword and went back to his place.

“I don’t like the sight of that rack,” he commented quietly to Addam, nodding towards a rack filled with different weapons at the fringes of where the duel would happen. “The courtyard should be clear.”

“I know. I'm pretty sure it was put there on purpose, a trick to try and corner Robb. But I doubt Joffrey will have the skill or the presence of mind to see it through.”

Robb and Joffrey bowed to each other, as tradition demanded, and the horn sounded again. Robb waited, like a wolf lurking for the prey to make a mistake. Joffrey’s hand shook slightly as he held the golden sword with two hands and the Northerner wanted to laugh — first mistake. The disinherited prince, though, had no patience and soon brought his sword down in attack. He was so slow that Robb, bulkier and strong, unlike Jon and Arya’s quick and graceful moves, was able to simply step to the side to avoid it. Joffrey stumbled a bit after his movement didn’t meet resistance, only air, drawing laughter from the crowd, which only inflamed him more. He kept hacking his sword around, which Robb easily parried, making Jaime lower his head with second-hand shame.

After a moment, though, Robb tired of the game, and attacked himself. Joffrey needed both hands to put on a defence. While he focused all his strength on the sword coming for his neck, Robb kicked his foot out and snaked it around the blonde’s calf, tripping him to his back. Joffrey fell to his back with a loud clang, momentarily disoriented. The Northerner kicked the shining golden sword away and brought his to Joffrey’s neck.

“You are a pathetic waste of breath,” Robb said, holding his sword to the boy’s jugular, and the crowd went quiet to hear. “You are a coward who lets others do your fighting for you, but when it comes to you owning your actions, you can’t. You commanded your dog to torture my lady sister so you could watch and laugh, but you wouldn’t have the balls to do it yourself. You are a disgrace to your name. And you will live the rest of your days in disgrace, knowing that you are nothing, that you have become nothing.”

Joffrey was trembling now and Robb started to step back.

“The duel is not over yet!” Joffrey yelled, humiliated. “It is to first blood.”

Robb snorted. Joffrey was still on his back, supported by his elbows, and he still had his sword to his neck. He lifted it a bit and made a small cut on the blonde’s cheek.

“There’s your blood, princeling,” Robb mocked. “It might disappoint you to discover it’s as red as the rest of ours. I’m sure you believed it was made of gold. Or maybe that’s just your shit.”

He stepped back and begun to return to where Jon and Addam were smiling, the crowd laughing at his back. Then he saw Jon’s face fall, Addam widened his eyes, but before he could do anything other than frown, he heard clambering footsteps, his mother, stepmother, and wife screamed his name, and a whoosh of steel went by his ears as the world tumbled around him.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do know what I've done. I wish I could say I'm sorry. But this cliffhanger was just too irresistible :)
> 
> I'm sorry that I'm still behind on answering comments, but my week has been hectic. However BREAK IS HEREEEEEEE!!!!! School is out! And now it's officially two years to graduation -- can't wait! I'll hopefully be able to answer all comments by next week's chapters!
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed this one and, as usual, please warm my heart by leaving comments and kudos :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Starks must deal with the aftermath of the duel while Jaime struggles with Joffrey's fate. Later on, Arianne has an interesting proposal.

Jon didn’t bother holding back the sight of relief when Robb put Joffrey on his back, smiling at his brother’s little speech. Addam was equally relieved, but then stiffened when Robb turned his back. _Never turn your back to an enemy_. The trial was over, Robb had won, but Joffrey was a prickly coward bully who had just lost and been humiliated before everyone in Court. His fears were concretised when the loser stood, his armour glinting gold against the sun, and reached inside one of his gauntlets to draw out a dagger — the handle glinted against the sun just like the armour, displaying the might of Casterly Rock, but the blade itself was dark and rippled. _Valyrian steel_. Strongest metal in the Known World and also the sharpest. Robb’s armour would hold against common steel, but…

Jon moved before he could make any conscious decision, his feet leading him across the courtyard to his brother. He heard Addam following, his sword grating against the scabbard as it was pulled out, but he was so intent in getting to Robb that Longclaw remained in its case. Jon reached his brother just as Joffrey was getting to him, pushing Robb out of the way and feeling the piercing pain as the dagger instead cut his back shoulder to shoulder, the Valyrian steel cutting through his leather jerkin like soft butter. The momentum threw Jon and Robb into a tumble and roll across the courtyard and Jon’s mind swirled with the movement and the pain.

Jaime stood up when Robb Stark gave his back, starting his way to Joffrey, to help him to his feet and hopefully lead him out of the courtyard before he could say anything in his anger and humiliation, straight to the horse already waiting to get him to Cersei. It seemed like slow motion. Joffrey pulled out the dagger — the one Valyrian steel blade Tywin had managed to get from some poor and hungry and disgraced House — and advanced at his foe’s retreating form.

That’s when the world went mad.

In the space of a heartbeat, as Joffrey ran to Robb Stark, Jon Starling did the same from the opposite side, then pushed the northern heir out of the way. And once again Joffrey stumbled at not meeting resistance, tripping over his feet, unused to the weight of the armour he had on, and barrelled right into the rack of weapons Uncle Stafford and Littlefinger had thought it smart to have there. Jaime’s heart failed a few beats as he ran the rest of the way there and his mind froze as he saw the spear poking through Joffrey’s back.

“No! No, no, no!” He stepped closer and saw the boy struggling to draw breath. “Joff!”

“Un-uncle—”

“Don’t… don’t speak! Maester!” Jaime yelled, his mind a whirlwind and his heart pulsing painfully in his chest. “Hold on, Joff! Where’s a maester?!”

But Joffrey drew a last struggling breath and relaxed, kept upward only by the spear that pierced him, his green eyes glassing over. Jaime sagged against the rack. Joffrey was dead. His son, his firstborn, dead before his eyes, holding his hand. Dead calling him uncle. He turned to see the commotion a few paces away. Robb Stark was also yelling for a maester, holding his bleeding brother in his arms. Sense ceased to exist. To Jaime’s confused and wounded mind, they had murdered his son. They had to pay.

Addam cursed as he saw Jon tackling Robb, as he saw the glint of the dagger cut his back. He skidded to a stop where the brothers finally stopped rolling and breathed in a huge sigh of relief as Jon replied, though his voice was filled with pain. A cut, however deep, was something that was healed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jon muttered.

“Robb, we gotta stop the bleeding,” Addam said, already reaching for the ruined jerkin.

“Maester!” Robb called, even as he helped Addam set Jon on his front on the ground. “We need a maester!”

Longclaw had loosened from the scabbard and the Valyrian steel was peeking out as the two men pulled Jon’s ruined shirt and bundled it to put pressure on the cut that ran from shoulder to shoulder. But then the knight’s senses picked up on the movement and he barely had time to reach for the sword, his own dropped to the side as he knelt down to help Robb, raising it just in time to block Jaime’s attack.

Addam cursed. The blond was obviously beside himself with grief and was acting out, but he needed to contain the threat. Longclaw was too light in his hands after so long using common steel and he was able to hold it against the downward attack even as he reached for his own sword. Once he had it, Jaime took a step back to be able to defend himself against the dual attack and the two knights parried. While he had never stopped training with two swords, Addam hadn’t used a sword so light as Longclaw ever since he had departed Starfall and left Dawn behind, so it was harder to remember that he didn’t need to put so much strength behind his parries.

“Step back, Lannister!” he warned, pushing Jaime away from Jon and Robb.

But Jaime was beyond words at this point and kept attacking mindlessly. Addam cursed mentally. He didn’t want to hurt Jaime, especially because he knew there would be repercussions, but he couldn’t allow him to get any closer to Jon and Robb either. Ser Barristan came from the audience and joined Addam’s side.

“Stop this, Jaime! Right now!” he yelled and the lion knight couldn’t fight both of them at once, finally stepping back. “Put away your blade and get out of here!” Barristan commanded.

Jaime staggered, but marched away from the courtyard, the crowd making way for him. As Addam turned back to return to Jon, Oberyn popped up at his side.

“I’ve got the dagger,” the Prince said in a rushed voice. “It turned blue.”

Addam stiffened. Blue meant poison. _Strong_ poison. “Can you figure it out?” he asked.

“Of course. Just a warning,” the Prince answered and disappeared in the middle the crowd.

“I said I'm fine, Dany,” Jon was saying as they joined the group around him. “Just dizzy. The tumble was too sudden.”

“We need to get you to the tent,” Addam said, seeing the gossipers staring at his scarred chest as his shirt was bundled on his back. “He’s dizzy for a reason.” He exchanged a look with Ned. “Come on!” Addam and Robb hoisted Jon up. As he wavered, Stafford Lannister started screaming.

“He killed our Prince! He killed Joffrey! After the trial was over! It’s treason!”

The crowd was inflamed and the two sides — Lannister supporters and Stark supporters — began yelling.

“It was the Fallen Lion that came to attack Lord Robb behind his back!” Unsurprisingly Greatjon Umber’s voice was the loudest. “Dishonour! Pure dishonour and against the King’s decree!”

Addam still tried to get Jon to the tent anyway, but the crowd was in the way and didn’t make room for them. Jon wavered on his feet even more and he was looking paler. “He needs to lie down,” the knight said to Ned.

“Enough of this!” the Lord of Winterfell yelled, his voice booming over the yelling and making the crowd subside. “You can argue to your heart’s content, but I’m getting my son to a maester. So make way or I will cut our way through!” he excalimed, his hand threateningly poised over his pommel.

“A knight who can’t withstand a small cut,” Daven Lannister mocked.

“I would mind my words if I were you, Ser,” Arianne also cut into the racket, still standing on the first row of the audience and therefore above the rest. “My uncle has the dagger Joffrey Lannister used. It was poisoned.”

The crowd yelled even more.

“Lies! Lies, lies, and lies! Everyone knows how the Dornish feel about us!” Stafford yelled.

“Are you accusing a prince of treason, my lord?” Arianne asked. “Are you accusing Prince Oberyn Martell of lying to the King and in front of me, his niece, heiress to Sunspear? And more, if I am announcing it, you are accusing me, Princess Arianne Martell, of treason. Will you make your accusation formal? Because I’m not afraid of answering to it.”

Stafford immediately backed down.

“Quiet, all of you!” Robert yelled, making people turn to him. His face was stony. “The trial by combat spoke for itself. Joffrey of House Lannister was found guilty. After the trial was over he tried to cowardly attack his opponent, Lord Robb of House Stark, behind his back and the gods have punished him for this betrayal. Lord Starling pushed his brother out of the way, he didn’t even draw a weapon, and the Iron Throne finds him blameless. It was a fair and just fight and whatever happened afterwards is a disgrace Joffrey brought upon himself. Now let’s move this along.”

The King turned on his heels and stomped out of the courtyard. The crowd parted and Addam and Robb half-carried Jon to the tent. Ser Barristan gave Longclaw — which he had taken from Addam’s hands as the knight went to support Jon — to Dany and then rushed after the king he had to protect for the time being. As she took Jon’s scabbard, people started gossiping again, whispering that the blade was Valyrian steel, the white wolf and winter diamond making its ownership obvious.

Robert nearly ran all the way back to his chambers and locked himself inside as soon as he could manage. He downed the first flagon of wine so quickly that he didn’t even take a breath in between gulps. But not even the wine took the edge of his feelings away. He was locked up in his chambers for days, only the servants bringing more wine being allowed in and, in those moments, the King was oddly stiff and silent, not demonstrating any reactions.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

From inside the tent, they could hear the noises of the still divided crowd outside, though Jory, his guards, and the northern lords blocked the passage of any gossips. Addam and Robb helped Jon to the cot, lying him on his side, his back facing them. Ella reached into her neckline and brought out a small vial pending from her necklace.

“What is that?” Ned asked as Addam tipped the vial in Jon’s mouth.

“Generic antidote,” Ella replied. “It’ll buy us time until Oberyn figures out which poison it was.”

“He said it turned blue,” Addam said, standing back up and tugging on his hair as Maester Byren started tending to the wound.

“Fuck,” Ella cursed, starting to pace.

“Don’t worry, Lady Stark, if anyone can figure out a poison, my uncle can,” Arianne said, coming into the tent. “I see you are prepared for emergencies” she nodded towards the empty vial by the bed.

“Oberyn has to be a good influence in some aspect,” Ella muttered. “You know they’ll be coming for you now, right?”

“Let them try,” the Princess said with a shrug, “Uncle Oberyn will love the opportunity. Dorne has been itching for lion meat for too long already.”

Catelyn only looked from one to the other, confused. She had been curious, when she had come to get Robb earlier, about the relationship between the whore’s brother and Prince Oberyn. But, as the Dornish Prince had a reputation for having all sort of… unsavoury friends, she didn’t dwell much on it. The bastard putting himself in danger to help Robb, however, had her conflicted. Why had he done that? Had he thought himself fast enough to get to his half-brother before Joffrey? Had he wanted to be close enough to pull his sword out and rise in defence of his slain half-brother in cynical grief?

“You should have stopped him,” Robb said weakly, holding on to Margaery’s hand. “He should have stayed away.”

Addam snorted. _He’s even more stubborn than his father and as protective as his mother,_ he thought. “I couldn’t stop him even if I had had the time to,” he said out loud.

“Don’t blame yourself, Robb,” Dany said shakily from where she knelt by Jon’s head.

“I can still punch you for being stupid,” Jon slurred.

“This is all my fault!” Sansa sobbed. “If I had stayed in that day, none of this—”

“Shh, love don’t be like that!” Ayla said, the closest to the girl, pulling her into a hug.

“Joffrey is the one who pulled out the dagger, it’s no one’s fault but his,” Benjen said.

Still unconvinced, Sansa only hugged her aunt back, tears falling unbidden as they watched the maester work.

“The cut is clean and the bleeding stopped,” the Maester said after several long moments. “Well, as clean as it can be when I don’t know the poison. I only hesitate to suture it now.”

“You don’t need to,” Melisandre said, slipping inside the tent as well.

“I’m not dying,” Jon mumbled. “I’m fine.”

“Fire is what purifies our souls, my lord,” Melisandre said. “If you cauterise the wound, it will burn the poison away.”

“It’s already in his blood by now,” Addam said.

“He is the Lord’s chosen one,” Melisandre insisted. “If we…”

“Got it!” Oberyn interrupted, bursting through the flap, already uncorking the vial. Addam took it hastily. “Go slowly or he’ll throw it back up. Too strong.”

“What was the poison?” Ella asked.

“It seems Lannisters have a sinister sense of humour,” Oberyn said, his face scrunched up in a frown — he had clearly not enjoyed the joke. “It’s wolf’s bane.”

Ned stiffened. That was no small joke.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The mood in the Tower of the Hand was terrible that evening. Maester Byren had put a salve on the wound and then wrapped it up carefully, saying that as long as the bleeding was under control, the cut was too thin to be sutured and would heal without stitches. It didn’t look so terrible, though it would leave a big scar behind. It took a long time for the crowd to disperse, but finally it did and they were able to return to the Tower — Jon had wanted to walk back on his own, but the poison had weakened him, so, after stumbling about, he accepted to be carried in a cot — or, actually, didn’t have much strength to rebuff Dany. He fell asleep on the way, barely stirring as Ned, Benjen, and Addam put him on the bed on his front, and hadn’t yet woken.

Lyanna had begun to cry when she saw the guards carrying the cot down the hallway, jumped onto the bed as soon as the men stepped back, and was hugging Jon’s arm against herself strongly. No one had had the heart to send her to her own chambers. Dany had checked on Little Addam and, reassured by Ayla that she would put him to sleep when the time came, the blonde returned to her husband, lying on the other side of the bed. Lyanna had immediately reached for her hand as well.

Ned had marched down to the training room and locked himself inside, certainly demolishing quite a few training dummies from the noises they could hear from the outside. Ella was so anxious, after an anxiety-filled few weeks, that she started having pains. Ayla had sent for the maester and helped her to her chambers, but it was a false alarm. But at least Ella was convinced to stay in bed without much trouble. As Edric was staying for dinner, to support his future family, Allyria slipped inside her sister’s chambers and stayed with her, making sure she rested.

The afternoon wasted away in a dark shadow and it was dusk when Ser Barristan came by. Benjen was the one who had to go inside the training room and ask Ned to reign in his fury to deal with the politics, but by that point the man was more tired than angry.

“The Silent Sisters have Joffrey, they are preparing the body,” the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard reported when he, Ned, Benjen, and Addam retired to Ned’s solar. “Though the doubt remains as to what will happen afterwards.”

Ned sighed, hitting his forefinger on the desk. “Robert has already disinherited Joffrey. Even after… he called him Joffrey _Lannister_. I say ask him what he thinks, though I have no doubt he is wasted by now.”

“Well, with the amount of wine he demanded since he locked himself in his chambers, my lord, I don’t think even Lord Tyrion would be standing,” Ser Barristan said. “The servant coming out just as I was leaving my post said the King is asleep now, though. Doubtful he will wake before morning.”

“Aye,” Ned said. “Ask Jaime Lannister what he wants done, then.”

“Are you sure, Ned?” Benjen asked. “Shouldn’t we wait for Robert?”

“He is not likely to care,” Ned said. “And, besides, if he’s sleeping off the wine, he won’t be able to stand vigil even if he wants to. Let Jaime do it. He should be the one doing it anyway.”

“There is the matter of telling Casterly Rock,” Barristan said.

“Aye, there is…” Ned exhaled. “I will send for Maester Byren. I’d probably write something very rude if left to myself.”

“How is Lord Starling?” Barristan asked.

“Sleeping the poison off,” Addam said. “Lady Starling and Lady Lyanna are with him.”

“Why don’t you ask Renly to do it?” Benjen suggested. “He is Master of Laws, so a part of the Small Council, and technically speaking he is Joffrey’s legal uncle. It was against your son that Joffrey was fighting, no one will think it absurd.”

“It’s a good idea. I honestly do not want to even communicate with Casterly Rock. Not after the bad joke they wanted to play today.”

“Bad joke?” Barristan asked.

“The poison on the dagger was wolf’s bane,” Addam said.

“Addam, how does one identify wolf’s bane?” Ned asked.

“It has a bloody strong smell,” the knight answered, “but I don’t actually know.”

“Well, I do,” Oberyn said, coming into the room and meddling before Jory could announce him. “I have a useful little revealing potion. One drop into any vial and if it turns black, it’s wolf’s bane.

“And if what is in the vial is already black?” Benjen asked.

“Then it isn’t wolf’s bane.” Oberyn shrugged. “Well, let me start with the things I came to say then. First — it is a very obvious reason as to why they decided to use wolf’s bane.”

“Very much so,” Ned muttered.

“Then I must tell you that they have added insult to injury,” Oberyn said. “The most common kind of wolf’s bane found in Westeros is either white or yellow. Those are less severe and the onset symptoms are usually nausea and vomit, taking some time to escalate to breathing and heart racing issues. For anyone who… _enjoys_ the use of poisons, that would be best, because it would send the person home with a false sense of security, and by the time the symptoms showed it would be harder to revert them. However, the most poisonous and also the one that would have the power to affect Lord Starling in any dangerous way so quickly has a particular colour. Purple. And I wonder — which House boasts of purple in their sigil?”

Ned clenched his jaw and fists, holding back the urge to punch something. “Prince Oberyn,” he said instead. “This potion of yours, to reveal the poison. I would be very interested in acquiring it,” Ned said and Oberyn smiled, setting a vial on the desk. “How may I repay you for the kindness?”

The Prince laughed. “Well, you’re going after Lannisters, that is payment enough for me. But, in any case, Arianne was telling me that while I searched for an antidote, Stafford Lannister had quite enough to say.”

“I can’t give you his head for that,” Ned said with a smile. “But I’ll be sure to include a petition for damages in our next Court session.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Lord Stark,” Oberyn said with a flourish and then vanished from the room.

“Jory,” Ned called, setting the vial on the desk again. “Gather the men. I don’t trust the City Guard for this, but ask Lady Starling to borrow a few of their guards and, if Tyrells and Daynes want to help, they may. Start with Stafford Lannister and then any other Lannisters or their supporters you can find in the castle, check their chambers for wolf’s bane. Check even Lord Baelish’s _establishment_. If any is found, arrest the cunt.”

The guard nodded, picked up the potion, and left.

“That will start a panic in Court, Lord Stark,” Barristan said. “People won’t be happy.”

“Good,” Ned said coldly. “It should show them what happens to those who threaten my family.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

After leaving the fateful courtyard, Jaime had gone straight to his chambers in the White Sword Tower and crumbled to the ground, weakened and lost. He stayed, frozen and unmoving on his bed, curled up against the pain of losing his son. A son he couldn’t even claim. It seemed like hours later when there was a shy knock on the door. He didn’t move — he wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him like this.

“Uncle?” a small, muffled, girl’s voice called. “It’s me, Uncle.”

_Myrcella_ , he thought, already moving. His face was drenched in tears, though he had kept every sob inside, refusing to let them out, and he hastily cleaned it as best he could before opening the door.

“Hello, Uncle!” she said, though her smile was tight. Did she know yet? Jaime stiffened as he saw Ser Barristan standing just a few paces behind her.

“Princess, run along inside while I speak with your uncle, please,” Barristan said softly. Myrcella smiled and complied as Jaime opened the door further for her to pass. “Her septa said news from the trial hadn’t arrived yet, and since the Queen… I thought it best that the news come from someone in the family. Prince Tommen was in a lesson with his maester, but his septa has orders to bring him by afterwards. You are off duty for the next few days. And I told them to send word once the Silent Sisters are done preparing the body.

Jaime nodded, clearing the knot in his throat. “I ah… Will the King stand vigil?”

“The King is… indisposed. I don’t believe he will be available for that.”

Jaime nodded again and the other man left. He turned back inside, closing the door behind him. Myrcella had made herself comfortable on his bed. She looked so beautiful, so innocent, sitting there and hugging one of her dolls! Cersei had looked like that too. A long, long, long time ago, when they were children, younger than Myrcella was now, before their father returned from the capital for a visit to his seat of power and filled her head with dreams of becoming Rhaegar’s wife.

“Joffrey lost the trial, didn’t he?” she asked softly.

“What do you know about it, Myrcella?” Jaime asked, pulling up a chair to sit facing her.

“The septa said Joffrey did something against Lady Sansa and the King had called for a trial. Then Joffrey asked for a trial by combat. But she said the trial wasn’t to the death.”

Jaime sighed deeply. “It wasn’t. But you’re right, Joffrey lost the trial.”

“Is he going to Mother?”

“Myrcella, Joffrey… he… you see, after the trial was over, he… he stumbled. Lost his balance.”

“Oh! Is he hurt?”

“He is… he is gone, my sweet girl.”

“Gone? Gone as in…” her little lips trembled. “Oh!” she threw her doll aside and kneeled on the bed, throwing her little arms around his shoulders. Jaime exhaled, relaxing into the hug. “I’m so sorry!”

He snorted. “I should be the one who is sorry. He was your brother. Much closer to you,” he finished in a whisper. He could still hear Joffrey’s last word echoing in his mind. _Uncle_. Right now, it sounded like an insult. Myrcella relaxed their hug and leaned back, staring at him with smart and bright green eyes.

“I _know_ ,” she said and his heart failed a beat.

“Know what?” Jaime’s voice shook as he asked.

She smiled softly. “Father, I know.”

Jaime’s heart changed to an uneven rhythm. “How?” he asked, tears falling down his face again. “For how long?”

Myrcella only smiled and kissed his cheek. “Father,” she repeated, “ _you_ are my father. And I am so happy. I love you, Father.” And hugged him again, fitting her head on his shoulder.

Jaime returned her hug strongly, feeling a weight he didn’t know he carried lifting.

“I love you too, my daughter.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Daenerys made a poor job of hiding her displeasure when she saw who was coming into the room. Which only amused the other woman, obviously. It was now three days since the trial by combat and Jon was finally rid of all the after effects of the poison, even the slight fever banished. Maester Byren had insisted on no physical exertion, which Ayla had strongly enforced, though Jon was now clear to roam around the Tower. They had just been told Prince Oberyn had come and would like to visit and, since he had been the one to provide the antidote, they couldn’t turn him away. But Dany didn’t like seeing Princess Arianne tagging along.

“I owe you my life, Your Grace,” Jon said. “House Starling will forever be in your debt.”

“Anything to stop Lannisters from making another victim,” Oberyn said. “I am glad you are feeling better, Lord Starling. But my visit today is more due to a desire for strengthening our ties.”

Dany and Jon exchanged a look. “How so, Your Grace?” she asked. Oberyn smirked and turned to his niece.

“As you know, Lady Starling,” Arianne started, “our families share blood ties.”

Jon stiffened. Dangerous subject, in a tense time in the capital. Not to mention that merely saying as much could be badly interpreted.

“I am aware, yes,” Dany acknowledged politely. “But your family holds no ties with House Starling,” she said pointedly. Arianne only smirked.

“Well, Jon here is the first Lord Starling, is he not? Though, I must say, I wouldn’t mind strengthening _our_ ties,” she said with a sensual smile. Dany’s face fell and she felt her blood begin to boil again. Jon took her hand and squeezed it, trying to soothe her anger.

“What is your point, Princess?” he asked, trying to be as cold and detached as he could.

“Well,” she continued, highly amused, “I propose a marriage alliance, of course.”

“Lord Starling is _my_ husband,” Dany spit through clenched teeth, already imagining tearing the other woman’s face off with her nails.

“Oh, I am aware,” Arianne said. “Though I personally think the Faith is extremely boring. Monogamy is boring. Pleasure lies in diversity. The old Valyrians, the Targaryens, were the ones who were right, practicing polygamy.”

“Lady Starling and I are married before the Old Gods, Your Grace,” Jon said. “They believe in monogamy as well.”

“Oooooh. Then you could take a new wife inside a sept!” the princess exclaimed.

Dany stood up in a jump, her ears buzzing and red colouring her vision. “Say that again!”

“Of course, it’s not like we need marriage to have fun,” Arianne went on. “I mean, pleasure is free, is it not?”

Jon held Dany’s arm back when she moved, her face flushed with anger.

“Enough, Ari,” Oberyn said, seeing that the situation was about to go badly. “I am very pleased to see that the dragon has claws, my lady. But you’d be better served sinking them into a stag or a lion. The snakes are your friends.”

“Apologies, Lady Starling,” Arianne said, amused and unrepentant, her eyes shining. “I meant no offence. I would actually want to propose a marriage alliance between our children.”

Dany sat back down, still furious, and inclined to say no before thinking on it just because of who was making the proposal. Jon, however, after all the long years learning diplomacy from Maester Luwin and his father, decided to go down the political route.

“Forgive me, Princess,” he said, “I was unaware you had children. Or that you were married, for that matter.” A married woman forwardly propositioning a married man — and in front of his own lady wife, no less. It was obviously true the rumours about how the Dornish viewed their sexuality as something open.

“It is a recent match,” Arianne said, shrugging. “My husband is Ser Cletus Yronwood. And us Dornish do like to live within our own borders, so the ceremony was a small thing in Sunspear. After all, we would never allow the man who sanctioned the murder of my aunt and cousins — or any of his envoys — in our home.”

Jon felt uncomfortable. At the same time that he felt like he should please Oberyn — a man he owed his life to —, he hesitated to think of a betrothal this early. He knew he and Dany were an exception, that arranged pairs rarely got on so well. And he knew much of that was due to growing up together and with a shared circumstance: they had both been outsiders in Winterfell, regardless of the love of his siblings. And besides, the way Arianne was speaking… she seemed to be scheming for her House to have a comfortable position in an eventual change of… political circumstances.

“Your Grace,” he said, “your proposal is very generous and I am certain it would be an honour for our child to be married to a Martell, but they are too young. And, as your so recent marriage suggest, your child isn’t even born yet. I should prefer to wait until the children are grown enough to at least meet and see if they will get along minimally.”

Oberyn snorted. “I thought you would say that.”

“My uncle has advocated for the beauty of love,” Arianne said. “Though I fail to see what love and marriage have to do with each other.” Jon squeezed Dany’s hand to keep her quiet. “But I accept and understand what you say, Lord Starling. Therefore, I shall slightly modify my proposal. I suggest a pre-betrothal, to be reviewed on the children’s twelfth name day. If we, at the time, believe the match to remain good, the proper betrothal can take place.”

“Which child twelfth name day, Princess?” Jon asked. “Lord Addam is already one-name-day-old, so by the time you have a child…”

“Oh, you misunderstood me, Lord Starling. I know Lady Lyanna is your heiress. I am proposing what Daeron II Targaryen proposed: a double marriage alliance. Lady Lyanna will marry my son and Lord Addam, my daughter.”

_My baby girl!_ Jon couldn’t help but thinking. He knew Lyanna would have to marry eventually, but to have even the suggestion presented… _Boys are boring_ , she had said. She was so little, so innocent! He felt like rushing upstairs and hugging her tightly, then asking Melisandre to find some magic to keep her as his little girl forever.

“I am sure you will understand that, however honoured we are, Your Grace,” Dany said when Jon kept quiet — she knew exactly what her overprotective husband was thinking, “we need time to consider such a proposal.”

“Of course, Lady Starling.” Arianne smiled. “We might have hot blood but we understand the need for caution.”

“We would also,” Oberyn cut in, “make the suggestion that such a deal should remain known only between our Houses. Until a more _convenient_ time, of course.”

Jon was uncomfortable with the clear political manoeuvre taking place.

“I do agree that would be best,” Dany said and Jon was even more unhappy.

But the Martells stood up and courtesies were exchanged as they left.

“It’s dangerous, Dany,” Jon said quietly once they were left alone in the room. “And you don’t like her.”

“No, I don’t. Because I know she is trying to get to you to irritate me. And it angers me even more that I fall for it. But her proposal has merit.”

“We don’t have the men, Dany. The men or the money. I don’t judge you for it, but we simply can’t do it.”

She clenched her jaw, knowing he had understood the underlying proposal and her thinking.

“That fat fool—” she started.

“I agree with you,” he lowered his voice even more. “But we don’t have the men. We don’t have the money. Even with the Dornish. And I won't force my father to choose between family and duty.”

“He would choose us,” she insisted.

“I can’t force his hand, Dany. I just can’t.”

“We should have the money soon enough. By the children’s wedding at least.”

Jon sighed. “Here is not the place for this conversation. There’s been enough political upheaval for someone to catch us and pass the gossip along.”

“Jon,” she called as he turned to leave. “If the oaf asked for my head…”

“He would have to step through me to get it, Dany. I'm offended you're even asking that. But we can’t rise and draw the realm into a fucking war again like this. You _know_ that.”

“I'm only showing you the choice your father would be faced with,” she said. “Or rather, how it _wouldn’t_ be a choice.”

She left the room, then, leaving a pensive husband behind.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a bunch of you hate me for last chapter's cliffhanger. I hope I've redeemed myself :)
> 
> Also, I hope Joffrey's fate pleased everybody -- we have not seen Cersei's reaction but I hope it will be worth it when it comes.
> 
> I'm finally up to date with comments, yay!! I doubt I'll be able to make any Christmas specials in time, so think of this as my Holiday special too all of you :)
> 
> So, happy holidays and I hope Santa has presents to everyone :D


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a last family breakfast, it is time to go back home. And King's Landing will see changes being made.

It was their last morning in King’s Landing and so they were having one big and loud family breakfast. It was during a lull in the conversation, when more sausage and eggs were brought, that Lyanna cut through the good mood.

“Papa, what’s a bastard?”

Jon dropped his fork with a clattering and Ned choked on his ale. Without fail, everyone turned to the place where Catelyn was trying to disappear inside her chair.

“Where did you hear that, my love?” Dany asked, her heart squeezing in her chest. Jon didn’t deserve this and their daughter was too young to even try to understand.

“Lady Catelyn said it,” Lyanna shrugged, unaware of the gravity of the situation. “She said I am the bastard spoon and I am ugly. I know ugly, but what is a bastard? It’s a new food, Mama, that’s why you need a special spoon?”

Catelyn stood up quickly. “I’m no longer hungry, so I will just excuse—”

“Gather your things, Catelyn,” Ned said in a cold and low voice. “I let you stay because of Sansa’s injuries, but you have, once again, overstayed your welcome. Jory!” He called and the guard stepped forward. “Have someone escort Lady Catelyn to the Sept of Baelor in one hour please. And you may tell the High Septon we see no need for new visits.”

“Ned…” she started, terrified of losing her children again.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Catelyn. Go gather your things. You are leaving in an hour with what you managed to get, I don’t care.”

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Arya asked.

“Why did you need to be so cruel?” Sansa asked. “Lyanna has nothing to do with this!”

“I was only—” Catelyn tried.

“If you ever speak to my daughter again,” Jon said in a voice so cold it made the others shiver, though his face was hot and flustered, “I will _not_ remind myself that you are the mother of some of my siblings. I told you once, I grew up having to listen to you belittling me, starving me, and leaving me to freeze. You will not be anywhere near my children. Even with your words.”

Addam stood up, his chair clambering behind him. “Wait a moment, what?”

“Not now, big brother,” Ella asked, pulling on his forearm.

“How could you let that happen?” Addam turned and asked Ned furiously.

“At the time, I trusted the woman who was wife, because I thought her to be reasonable,” Ned answered. “I judged her wrong, obviously. Get out, Catelyn, I won’t say it again.”

With her lips trembling, she turned to leave.

“Mother,” Robb called, standing up as well. “Don’t bother sending any letters. I won’t even open them.”

“Son, please…”

“I told you not to mess with the pack again,” Arya said. “And you did. You are incapable of changing, of recognising the error of your ways. I hope Sansa won’t fall for it again.”

“I doubt I will,” Sansa said, the pain clear in her voice.

Catelyn let a sob escape and rushed out of the room. Dany took Lyanna into her arms and hugged her fiercely.

“You are nothing of what she said, alright, my love? You are beautiful and kind and lovely.”

“But what does it mean?” the girl insisted.

“It means she is an unkind woman and she is very, very rude, little love,” Jon said, moving to her chair and then putting an arm around his girls.

Lyanna accepted the hug for a while. “But Papa, how can she be mother to Uncle Robb, Auntie Sansa, Auntie Aya, Uncle Bwan, and Uncle Rickon if she is not married to Gwanpa?”

“Oh, but that is a very long and very complicated story,” Dany said. Jon was still so upset he couldn’t even speak, only hugging Lyanna. “We will tell you when you’re older.”

“I want to be older now,” she said grumpily. “I want to know!”

“But then you have less time with Mama and Papa. If you’re grown up, you will be moving away from us and we will only write letters, not see each other everyday,” Dany said. Jon shuddered at the thought and Dany realised it hadn't helped as much as she wanted.

“Oh!” Lyanna gasped. Then she looked around the table. “Like Uncle Robb in Winterfell and us home and Gwanpa and Gwanma here?” she asked and Dany nodded. Then Lyanna threw her little arms around both her parents. “Alwight, I want to be little forever!”

Jon chuckled, tightening his arms around her. He wanted her to be little forever too.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

When Margaery came into their chambers after saying goodbye to her family, she found Robb sitting in one of the armchairs, staring angrily into the air. She came and sat on the arm of the chair, making him look up to her with a tight smile.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asked softly.

Robb exhaled. “There is nothing to talk about.”

“Well, that I doubt. In matters of family, there is always something to talk about. Look, Robb, I know I'm new to the family and I know we are only beginning to get to know each other. But if we want a happy marriage, we must trust one another. I cannot begin to imagine how hard it must be, speaking about your parent’ annulment. It is something so… unusual, different from the norm, that it cannot be simple. But I know your father and he is one of the most honourable men I have ever met or even heard of. I doubt he would have gone to the extreme of an annulment without cause. And I heard what Jon said at the table. If you don’t wish to talk about it, I won't press you, but I just want you to know that I am here for you, to be friendly ears and comforting arms.”

He smiled softly and pulled her to sit on his lap, enjoying the easiness and comfort of their embrace. In moments like these, he wanted to kick himself for being so anxious and nervous about the wedding. Margaery was a balm to his soul, a comfort for his previous loneliness. So he told her, he told her everything. What Catelyn had done to be sent away from Winterfell; how Hoster Tully, convinced Ned wouldn’t take her back, sent her to the Sept; how she refused a smaller household in the North and preferred the Sept if she couldn’t have Winterfell…

“And it kills me that I opened up to her again, that I believed she had changed, that she had recognised her mistakes, and in the end it was all a lie. She was lying to get close to us again. She still thinks Jon has no right to be called my brother, that Lyanna is not my niece. She is still the same petty woman who would be cruel to my brother, who would pray for his death, who would pray against his children and his marriage. Who yelled inside the Sept of Baelor, in front of the Mother, that she prayed Ella would have no children.”

“Robb, you can’t carry this inside you,” Margaery said.

“But I trusted her! I really thought she had changed!”

“Of course you did. Because for better or for worse, she is and always will be your mother. Don’t blame yourself for expecting the best of her. If we can’t trust family, who can we trust?”

“Well, I won't trust her again,” he said angrily.

“That is your right and I don’t think anyone can judge you for that. But she deserved another chance. Now that you know she is unworthy, then you can move on and never wonder ‘what if I had trusted her?’.”

He smiled minutely, pulling her into a hug.

“Thank you. I needed to hear this”

Margaery hugged him back and relaxed into his arms.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned watched the movements at the harbour. Ella had been very grumpy that she was being left behind in bed rest, but she wasn’t complaining much — nothing mattered more than the safety of their child. Arya and Sansa were entertaining Lyanna and Ned held Little Addam, hating the thought of letting them go but relieved they would be out of King's Landing.

“Lord Stark,” Greatjon Umber joined him, “you asked to speak with me.”

“I did,” Ned said, checking around, but Jory and his men had blocked passage to where they were and the harbour workers were too busy loading the luggage and too far away to listen in. “I’m afraid I must ask a service of you, Lord Umber.”

“You are my liege lord, Lord Stark. I live to follow your commands.”

Ned chuckled. “Please, Greatjon, we’ve known each other long enough.”

“We have indeed,” the man laughed. “You are my liege lord but I have opinions. Now, what is it? Please tell me it’s going to piss off the fucking lions.”

“I have no intention of starting a war and killing thousands of innocents on a whim,” Ned said. “But Joffrey is dead, Ser Boros Blount is dead, and Tommen and Myrcella are off to Dragonstone with only Jaime Lannister to protect them, as far as Casterly Rock will see. Tywin _might_ start something. And if he does, the North won't bow to him.”

“We sure as hells won’t. Do you want me to gather the banners?” Greatjon asked.

“No. Not just yet. I want you to go to Moat Cailin and oversee the defences. Lord Robett is there in charge of the castle, but he did not come to the wedding, he did not see what happened. I wouldn’t like to send a letter to cross the Riverlands and be so easy to be intercepted. I would rather you went there, told him to be ready, and made sure he has what he needs to close the North. So check the defences and make sure the Moat can be readied quickly to take in refugees from the Neck.”

“With pleasure, Lord Stark. The Moat needs only a few archers, should be easy.”

“I know,” Ned nodded. “Lord Crystark will be helping Lord Starling with the navy, so, after you’ve made sure the Moat is prepared, I would like you to go to Winterfell and make sure Lord Robb has everything in hand. He is a smart man, but young and inexperienced.”

“We’ve faced enough wars, my lord,” Greatjon said. “Don’t worry, I’ll strengthen the North. Make sure we have enough provisions for a war and that every castle is well-manned and the walls are sturdy.”

“Don’t incite a desire for war, Jon,” Ned asked. “We can’t afford to waste so many resources this close to winter unless it’s absolutely necessary. We can’t starve our people because of a desire for glory. We’re Northmen.”

Greatjon seemed a bit abashed. “Of course, Lord Stark. Only ensure our defences are up to the task, I got it.”

“Thank you, Greatjon. You are one of my best warriors. I know I can count on you.”

“You don’t need to butter me up, Ned. I do wish we could go and have lion barbecue, but I understand what you’re saying. The North is greater than us. I’ll do it.”

Ned nodded and Greatjon left, yelling at a poor boy who was trying and failing to carry a trunk. A moment later, Mace Tyrell stopped next to him.

“I should thank you for your support and your indication, Lord Stark.”

“Nonsense, Lord Tyrell,” Ned said. “Lord Willas proved to be a competent man for the job and, as I am aware of his betrothal to Lady Wynafryd, it only made sense that he should be able to get to know her better.”

“Indeed. I must say House Tyrell is very glad of the match!”

Ned smiled, remembering Lord Manderly’s comic face when Mace — at his mother’s behest — proposed the marriage of Willas and Wynafryd. The poor Northerner could barely believe his granddaughter would be the next Lady of Highgarden!

“I look forward to having Lord Willas in the Small Council, Lord Tyrell,” Ned said.

Mace smiled. “You have made me a proud father, Lord Stark. I shall see you next year for the wedding!”

Ned nodded and watched him leave. Soon, too soon, Daenerys came.

“I’m sorry, Father, we must go now,” she said, regretfully.

Ned exhaled, kissing Little Addam’s temple. “Grandpa will miss you, boy! Dany, whatever the Dornish promised…”

“We didn’t…”

“Jon wouldn’t tell me what,” Ned cut in. “But I know Princess Arianne and Prince Oberyn suggested something and I can actually make a good guess. Just be careful. War is an ugly thing.”

“I know,” she said.

“No, you don’t,” Ned said. “I hope you never will, but each day I think it less likely. Just remember: the pack survives, Dany. Above all else, our family comes first.”

She nodded and accepted his hug and kiss.

“I’ll miss you, Father.”

“I’ll miss you too, Daughter.”

“Dany, we have to go!” Jon said. “Are you sure you’re staying, Father?”

Ned chuckled. “I’m afraid I must.”

“Come home wish us, Gwanpa!” Lyanna said, hugging his leg. Ned picked her up and hugged her tightly.

“I will visit as soon as I can, I promise.”

“I no like this village,” the girl insisted. “You come home, Gwanpa.”

Ned smiled, kissing her one last time before Dany took her little hand and took the children to the boat.

“Be careful, son.”

“I’m more worried about you, Father,” Jon said. “If the Lannisters…”

“I am prepared for Lannister retaliation, son. Don’t worry, we will be fine. But… I’ll send Sansa and Arya North as soon as the maester allows it, if I may prevail on your ship.”

“Please,” Jon rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell my captain, not that he would ever consider anything else. I’ll have him give me a better schedule of the next deliveries south and you can send the girls whenever you want. Don’t thank me! Everything for the pack, right?”

Ned nodded and pulled Jon into a hug. They went to where the others were boarding the boats and final goodbyes were said.

“Take care of your wife,” Ned told Robb, “she is a very especial lady. And she makes you happy!”

“She does, Father,” Robb blushed. “And she will be thrilled to care for my siblings when you send them North.”

Ned chuckled. “Ella won't let Rickon, Cregan, and the baby out of her sights for a few years yet. And by that time you will have your own children to worry about.”

“Well, that sounds like Ella.” Robb chuckled as well. “Just, please, don’t worry about there being no one to care for the children. You know you have raised me better than that.”

“I know.” Ned smiled. “I may not have much to be proud of in life, but I know I can be very proud of my children.”

Robb smiled and they hugged before he went to help Margaery into the boat. Once they were all gone, Ned hugged Arya, Sansa, and Rickon closer, wishing once more for the safety and calm of Winterfell.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Catelyn was half-dreading and half-anticipating as she crossed the Sept’s corridors. Septa Unella had just come and fetched her, saying she had a visitor. She knew it was unlikely that it was her children, that Robb had left the day before and Sansa and Arya and Rickon would be angry, but still…

“Petyr!”

“Hello, Cat,” he said, standing up to greet her. “I'm sorry we haven’t talked in a while. I didn’t want to impose while you visited with your children.”

“Thank you. And I'm glad you’re here,” Catelyn said. “I must ask you something. Is it true that you were the one who told Joffrey about Sansa and Lord Dayne’s betrothal? Right after I asked you for discretion?”

Littlefinger bit back a curse, but he had known this was coming anyway.

“Cat, do you think I would betray you? And why? What profit would it have brought me? None.”

“I just… Ned said…”

“You know Lord Stark doesn’t like me, Cat, you have always know he had taken his dead brother’s side,” Petyr said.

“Don’t speak about Brandon, please,” Catelyn said. _Brandon would have really loved me. He wouldn’t have forced me to raise his bastard. He wouldn’t have set me aside and kept me from our children_ , she thought.

“I apologise,” Petyr continued. “By the time I arrived in the Red Keep that day, the whore had already been found in Prince Joffrey’s chambers and the King was already speaking with Lord Stark. How could I have told anyone?” he said. Catelyn was too easy to manipulate, especially when she wanted to believe what he was telling her.

“Of course,” she agreed. “I know I can trust you, Petyr. You’re my only friend now. The only one who cares about me and stood by me even at the worst moment of my life.”

“Of course I care about you, Cat. You know how much. I won't say it again, because you requested it of me. But you can always count on me!”

“Thank you, Petyr! You’re such a solace!”

“This unfortunately brings me to what I have to say.” He exaggerated a sigh. “I will leave a few of my men with orders to protect you and provide you with anything you might need. I still have business in the city, so you will never be left unsupported. And we will still write, obviously.”

She frowned. “What do you… wait, are you leaving?”

“I am afraid I am, Cat. I haven’t been banished from the capital, but I think it might be best to leave until things settle.”

“But you are Master of Coin!”

“Not any longer, I'm sorry to say. I have been dismissed from the Small Council and my seat has been taken over by Willas Tyrell.”

“But… wait, was this Ned? Did he kick you out of the Small Council because he thinks you are the one who provoked Joffrey?”

“I… I do believe so, Cat. The King has been locked up in his chambers ever since the trial by combat, but he did send a command that Lord Stark is in charge of the capital. So if I have been dismissed, Lord Stark is the one who did it.”

 _He is taking even my last friend from me_ , Catelyn thought.

“But we will write, Cat!” Petyr continued. “Besides, I have been hearing rumours from the Vale… it seems your sister is unwell. I will go straight to the Eyrie and settle things there. She is… she has not been right for a few years, so she needs a friend.”

Catelyn nodded, saddened. “Of course. You must do whatever is necessary to protect Lysa and her son. You are such a good friend to us, Petyr!”

He smiled falsely as they hugged. Now that he had been kicked out of the Small Council, he needed control of the Vale more than ever. If only to keep Lysa from being coerced into joining the Starks because of her family ties with Robb Stark. He _needed_ to have the Eyrie under his command immediately!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Everyone burst into laughter when Rickard and Little Addam collided head on as they ran around. The dining room in the _Lady Daenerys_ now held only the crumbs of the little feast they had thrown to celebrate Rickard’s first name day. Though the events had delayed them, Ayla was the first to say they should leave King’s Landing as soon as possible, even if it meant her son’s milestone would be celebrated aboard.

“He’s not likely to remember where we celebrated it,” she insisted. “Besides, if we wait and the winds are unkind, we will delay Sam and Gilly’s wedding. Very unkind of us.”

So like that they went aboard as soon as Maester Byren said Jon’s wound was enough healed that it wouldn’t bleed again and there were no lingering effects of the poison. Neither Oberyn nor Arianne had mentioned the proposal again, though, when they parted ways, Daenerys made clear that she was thinking favourably upon it. That was growing an anxiety between her and Jon — he was still hesitant and he thought it was too dangerous. But he refused to argue the point before they were home, safely within their walls, and they were only halfway there.

“I spoke with Margaery,” Robb said bring a horn of ale to where his brother was brooding in a corner. “She agrees that, since we will be staying for Sam and Gilly’s wedding, that we should stay a few days more for Dany’s name day. If you will have us.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “I won’t even dignify that with an answer. But you’re not in a hurry to get home?”

“Yes and no,” Robb answered with a chuckle. “After travelling so much in these recent times, I’m looking at a very long time settling down in Winterfell. No harm in spending a few more days with my little brother, his princess wife, and my beloved niece and nephew in his fancy castle.” Jon chuckled too. “Besides, perhaps then you’ll tell me what’s wrong between you and Dany. I noticed something odd at first, but then decided to leave you be, as I know you like to brood and keep everything inside. However, my lady wife won't stop pestering me to ask you.”

“It’s complicated,” Jon said, exhaling. “And besides, this is not the place.”

“Just tell me you’re both fine.”

“Physically, aye,” Jon replied, chancing a glance at his wife across the room. “It’s… a philosophical matter.”

Robb frowned. “If that was your attempt at soothing my worries you failed spectacularly. You’re too practical for philosophy, brother, you always have been.” Then he snorted. “You have Father’s pragmatism down to perfection. Even more than me.”

“Is there any other way to handle a castle in the North?” Jon asked with a weak smile. “Thank the gods we don’t need to deal with the absurd levels of politicking of the south. I don’t know that I would have the patience.”

“You know, by the way Father said ‘things in the capital politics are improving’ and ‘back to how they were before’, I dare guess that this has been something recent. Like post-Rebe—”

“Don’t say it, Robb,” Jon moaned. “And don’t let Dany hear you. Please.”

Robb narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I see. Is that the philosophical matter?” he asked and Jon nodded. “That is not a matter to be considered lightly. Though given recent experience with capital politics and our current Royal Family, I could go for some philosophy as well.”

“We don’t have _what it takes_ for philosophy. And this is not the place,” Jon insisted. “Let it go, brother.”

“Unka!” Little Addam came, pulling on Robb’s knees. “Wun, Unka, up wun!”

Jon laughed as Robb rolled his eyes and set his horn aside to pick up his nephew.

“I told you not to let him bully you,” Jon said.

“Well, I have to enjoy my time with my favourite nephew!” Robb said, putting the boy sitting on his shoulders.

“He’s your _only_ nephew,” Jon pointed out, but the older brother only waved him away and started running around the room.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Dear Gendry,_

_I do not know what gossip has already — if at all — managed to make its way North. I know I promised in my last letter that I would attend Lord Tarly and Lady Gilly’s wedding, but I am afraid I could not. You see, the prickly lion, Joffrey, attacked my lady sister. She is recovering, but she had a couple of broken ribs and another two were bruised so she could not travel. I could not leave her now. I do not know if it is odd or not, but Sansa and I always fought a lot, there was a time we really hated each other, but that has changed recently. We understand each other now, at least better than we did before. I saw what that monster did to her and I just cannot leave her behind. I know it is silly, because Joffrey is dead — he died trying to attack Robb from behind after he had lost his trial by combat — and my lord father has a lot of guards around us now, but I just… I guess I am being as stupid as I always accused Sansa of being._

_I hope you can forgive me for breaking my promise. But we can still write. And my sister needs me here in the capital. Or I need to be here. I do not know, I just… I am going to stop writing now._

_I suppose I will see you again when I go up there for Lady Lyanna’s and Lord Starling’s name days at year’s end. Hit Hot Pie so he will write, would you? I can bet he is skipping his lessons, so feel free to drag him to those. Or tell Nymeria I am asking her to, she will certainly understand. And tell him that I miss his cooking, even with all that we have here._

_Your friend,_

_Arya_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Their arrival at the Midnight Fortress was, thankfully, without any delays and nothing unpleasant happened. Lady Tarly and her daughter arrived only a couple days later and the lady was gracious in every sense of the word. If she had had any reservations about her son’s bride, they were obviously gone now, as she treated Gilly like a daughter. She had only complained a bit about the fact that Sam had chosen to marry in the godswood instead of the little sept built in the village, but Sam was adamant.

“The Seven never gave me any graces, so I pray that the Old Gods will,” the groom insisted. “Besides, I am lord of a Northern holdfast and in the North we follow the Old Gods.”

And although the Northern ceremony was simple, Lady Tarly and Talla insisted in helping. Once the girl heard that Gilly was still having her trousseau made, since she didn’t have a lot before Sam rescued her, she insisted in stitching as many pieces as she could manage. Melessa badgered her son endlessly on his lack of a proper sigil until Sam relented and allowed his mother and future wife to come up with one.

“You and Lady Sansa would be fast friends,” Ayla said as she and Talla sat embroidering.

The girl beamed. “If my lord father allows it, I think I should enjoy greatly the opportunity to go to the capital and meet Lady Sansa. I… my lady mother mentioned she was not able to travel.”

“No, travelling was unadvisable, which is why she and Lady Arya remained in the capital,” Ayla said. Then she proceeded to talk about Gilly’s trousseau, changing the subject for a more pleasant direction.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Benjen watched as Jon paced around his solar, taking a moment to absorb all the news.

“So this is what has you worried since King’s Landing?”

“Aye,” Jon replied, not ceasing his pacing. “But not only that.”

“Oh, you mean there’s something graver than the Martells proposing an alliance and your wife being only too eager to accept it in order to rise in rebellion and take the throne?”

Jon sighed. “I know why Dany is frustrated. We are still vulnerable. Twice now we were almost fatally attacked — once Cersei sent an assassin to kill Dany, knowing she was pregnant, and I almost lost her and our son; and then that merchant sent an assassin to kill our son in his crib — and say what you will, but if that merchant was guilty I doubt he did it by himself.”

“What do you mean?” Benjen asked.

“That man was angry that he was ruined and his fortune was gone because Father cut the corruption. He wouldn’t have the money to send such a special band of assassins all the way to Winterfell. Hiring someone to murder the son and grandson of the Hand of the King would have been expensive enough without sending the assassins across almost the entire realm. Not to mention: why poison? And such a specific, cruel poison? Why not just slit their throats and be done with it? They took too many risks. One of us deciding to go to the nursery in the middle of the night, even without the direwolves leading us there, would have stopped their plot.”

“It was the night of my name day, Jon. We were too tired from the feast. Besides, you still don’t understand: this little family thing we have here is more to the unusual side. Other lords think of their children merely as heirs, only deigning to spend time with them once they can respond with a coherent sentence. And most ladies leave the babies to their nurses. We checked on the children before we went to bed — and that is more than most do — but we weren’t going to do that again. If the direwolves hadn’t brought us to the nursery, we wouldn’t have found them until morning.”

Jon felt a shiver go down his spine at the thought. “I know that. But honestly, would a ruined merchant spend this fortune? When a few weeks later he could send someone who could infiltrate the Red Keep? In Winterfell there are only the Stark guards, a newcomer is easily spotted. In the Red Keep there are so many different sigils that it’s much, much easier. And it still doesn’t explain why he decided to invest in this crazy poison. If he wanted to use poison, there are several others that are quicker. It makes me think that whoever did it, first, has some sadistic tendencies; second, didn’t care about being caught; and third, was more worried about the mess than killing the boys. Besides, we have cause to believe it’s the same person who tried to kill me when I was a baby.”

“Are you thinking about the Lannisters?”

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Jon grumbled. “But Tyrion seems to think his father wouldn’t have been this cruel. That Tywin would have told them to cut throats and have a simple thing, but a done thing. According to Tyrion, Tywin prefers results not frilly nonsense. That was theatre, Uncle, not simplicity. And it worries me, because it’s an enemy I cannot name.”

“They won’t come again, Jon,” Benjen said, standing up and putting a hand on his shoulders. “Not only did we up the guard, but a man was found guilty of it and there was the whole mess in King's Landing. Stafford Lannister will be paying the Dornish for quite the number of years — and it was Renly that made the decision on that one — and Stannis is fostering Tommen and Myrcella at Dragonstone — Jaime Lannister might be good, but he’s only one against all of Stannis’s men. Tywin Lannister has his hands tied and he knows that: Joffrey is dead and Tommen and Myrcella are safe in Dragonstone, even Jaime is there. Stannis has a whole armada around that island, they are not getting in there and ‘rescuing the hostages’. Any move they make, Casterly Rock is the one that has too much to lose.”

“And if it is, as Tyrion believes, someone else?”

“Whoever it is, he will be shy to move now. If the merchant in King's Landing really had nothing to do with this, then he was framed. If it happens again, Ned will suspect the frame job and then a witch hunt will begin. No one will be that bold. Now come on, we have a wedding in a few days, there is much to do and prepare for.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the last post of 2018, I want to wish everyone a very happy new year and that what comes be infinitely better than what's been.  
> Hope you've all enjoyed this one and see you next year!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Jon finally talk about a very important point while Margaery gets to her new home. In Casterly Rock, things are about to explode.

All in all, Marwyn had been expecting something very much worse. The castle was indeed much simpler than those in the south, even the few he had seen on the journey north, but it was not falling apart. Anymore, it seemed, as he could see builders working on the roofs and towers.

“Archmaester Marwyn to see you, Maester Aemon,” the steward announced, opening the door to the library.

The room was dark, no candles lit and no light other than a roaring fireplace, but the archmaester could smell the knowledge emanating from the shelved volumes.

“Aemon!” he greeted. “I have missed your wisdom!”

The elder man laughed. “That I doubt! You're the one with the higher rank.”

“Rank!” Marwyn snorted. “Useless thing. I have the rank because you fled here and you very well know it. What happened to your sleeve?” he frowned.

“Oh, is it burnt again?” Aemon felt for it. “Well, it is salvageable. I'm afraid the cold winds grow colder up here, my friend. And cold is terrible for my old bones. Fortunately, I have a way of keeping warm.”

“Dragon blood.” Marwyn chuckled amazed. “You’re fireproof?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. A hotter fire, for a forge, for example, grows to be uncomfortable. Now come, sit. You must be cold and weary from your journey. You never explained: why come this far?”

“Lord Stark had some interesting stories to tell,” Marwyn said as they took their seats next to the fire, marvelled at how Aemon pulled his sleeve up and put his hand back into the flames unafraid. “Have you gotten news of this conspiracy of the grey sheep?”

“Not yet,” Aemon said. “Lady Starling sent me a letter telling me to be careful, but not much more.”

“Well, I brought one of my acolytes to stay with you — trustworthy eyes. But let me tell you…”

“Before you bring me news, I have something to share,” Aemon said. “It’s about the prophecy.”

“The Prince Who Was Promised?” Marwyn asked and the other nodded. “You told me you thought it meant Rhaegar. I went to King's Landing, gave him the scrolls, talked to him about it because you were convinced it meant him, after the way he was born, amidst the salt and smoke of Summerhall. But he is dead, Aemon. Long dead.”

“I know. But you used to say that prophecy is a bewitching mistress. Have you changed your opinion?” Aemon asked.

“I have not.” Marwyn narrowed his eyes. “Did he forge the sword? Is that how Lady Lyanna died, because he tempered it with her blood? Where is it?” Then he gasped, opening and closing his mouth. “You can’t mean… a bewitching mistress! Symbolism! Is that what you mean?”

“What do you know?” Aemon asked.

“She died in childbed,” Marwyn said quietly, though they were alone in the room. “Their son was born bathed in her blood and she perished soon after.”

“Lightbringer,” Aemon confirmed equally as quiet. “Not a sword, but a baby boy who will lead us through the war.”

“But… but the rest of it! Bathed in the Princess’ blood he might have been, but… there was no bleeding star!”

“There was,” Aemon said. “Through some inquiring, I have discovered that, to gain access to his sister, Lord Stark and his men fought the Kingsguards stationed at the Tower. He managed to disarm Arthur Dayne, defeated him in single combat, and then rushed to the Princess. With Dayne’s sword in hand.”

“Why is it—” Marwyn gasped again. “The Dayne sword. Dawn. Forged from the heart of a fallen star.”

“And if there was a duel…”

“The sword was stained with blood — a bleeding star. In a tower surrounded by the sand of the desert. Gods, it all fits!”

“I asked you to guide Rhaegar all those years ago, my friend,” Aemon said. “Jon is our best hope, Marwyn. He is the promise we have been expecting for five thousand years. The enemy is already moving south, preparing to attack and Jon remains unaware of who he is and how important he is. So I must ask — would you guide him?”

Marwyn only nodded. The grey sheep had tried to slaughter the dragons and, all this time, it was the dragons who had been promised to save them!

“Perhaps that’s why your family is so hard to kill,” he said. “Because the gods made you to save us all.”

“I like to think there is sheer force of will in there as well,” Aemon said with a smile, though he couldn’t help but agree. Targaryens had survived the Doom of Valyria, family fights, the Dance of Dragons, maesters conspiring to kill them, and a Rebellion set on eradicating them. It was certainly more than pure resilience.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Gilly was ignorant to the wedding customs of the Free Folk, only used to the abhorrent ceremony in which Craster’s oldest wife tied a ribbon around the new one and the disgusting man and then all the women were forced to watch the bedding. That had been an all-together terrifying and humiliating experience. But right now, she felt happy and even giddy.

Jon had met her in the entrance hall of the Fortress, complimented her beauty, and then led her to the godswood, where she could only smile at seeing Sam waiting for her. Benjen had spoken, then Sam spoke, and Jon gave her away, and suddenly she was married. But rather than her sisters staring down at her with pity, her new friends and the guests were celebrating, cheering, as they walked back to the castle and into the Great Hall, where the banquet expected them. Everyone was simply happy and Gilly was astonished at how her life had changed so drastically — and all because Sam had been kind to her!

“Time for the first dance!” Talla, her new sister, yelled halfway through the night.

“Now, Talla,” Sam moaned, “we’re fine, we’re—”

“You’re on your way to the dance floor, yes,” Dany said, standing up and ready to shoo them out of their chairs. “Come on, Sam, it’s tradition!”

Sam didn’t stop groaning all the way down from the main table.

“I'm sorry if I step on your feet,” he said. “Jon and Robb tried to help me, but I’m not much for dancing.”

Gilly laughed, delighted. “It’s alright. Dany and Ayla taught me. Dany said that I should take the lead — it seems Jon doesn’t like dancing too much neither.”

Sam chuckled but let her lead. They danced, swaying from side to side, as the minstrels played a thankfully short song, and then the dance floor begun to fill with other pairs.

“Are you happy, Lady Tarly?” Sam asked.

She giggled, giddiness filling her. _Lady Tarly_. Once upon a time, she thought she would live a miserable life then die in that frozen hellhole, haunted by the disgusting man who had both sired her and married her. Now she was in the south — well, in the North, but south of the Wall —, in a nice castle, surrounded by friends and family. Her husband was a loving man, who cared for her and loved her, and her son was upstairs, sleeping safely in the nursery, not being sacrificed to evil monsters. She would never have to fear for her life or her son’s or any new children she had. She was safe. And happy!

“I don’t think I ever felt this happy, Sam,” she said. They smiled at each other, lost in their love as their wedding feast roared around them.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It was the middle of the afternoon when Jon sent runners to gather the entire family.

“What is it?” Dany asked once they were in the family room.

“This just came from Father,” Jon said with a smile and everyone was anxious. “I proudly announce that we have a new sister! Lady Serena!”

“Is she well? Are they both well?” Robb asked after a round of celebrations. “Ella was resting when we left. How was the birth?” Jon passed him the raven scroll.

 

_My dear son,_

_It is with delight that I announce the birth of your new sister, Lady Serena Stark. She fares well and is very healthy and hungry. Your stepmother is also well, though she had a bit of a hard time with all the anxiety, but the maester assures she will recover quickly. We shall visit at year’s end if Maester Byren judges appropriate._

_Love,_

_Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, Warden of the North, and Hand of the King_

 

“How long do you think it will take until Arya tries to bring her for a ride?” Robb asked with a huge smile.

“Probably longer than what it will take for Sansa to bring her to an embroidering lesson,” Jon joked back. “But they’ll both have to get through Ella first!”

Everyone laughed and Jon called for a toast.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Truth be told, Jon had been surprised that it took nearly a fortnight for him and Dany to finally pick up their argument from King's Landing — though he had wished to avoid it forever.

“Do you want to sit here and wait for them to call for my head?” Dany yelled, her face red with fury. “Because Robert may be quiet for now, maybe he won't ever do anything because he respects Father and because he likes you, but once he dies, do you think that will hold? The moment Robert Baratheon dies, the moment Tommen becomes king, the Lannisters rule this realm, Jon. Tommen may be away from Cersei now, but he will heed her words. The Lannisters won't rest until I'm dead.”

“If it comes to that, we will fight back, Dany! They will _never_ find an easy path to you, I swear. But I can’t agree to war just because!”

“I want to protect us!” Dany exclaimed, frustrated.

“Can't you see that you would be doing the opposite!” Jon yelled back equally frustrated. “If we start a war without provocation, Dany, then we are the villains of the story, power hungry and greedy! We don’t have the men, we don’t have the money, and winter is coming! We don’t know how long this winter is going to be, we can’t waste the supplies we have! And the Dornish alone are not enough!”

“The North will join us!”

“I can’t force my father’s hand!” Jon snapped.

“It won’t be forcing! He would side with us, Jon!”

“He is Robert’s Hand!”

“To protect us, Jon!” Dany yelled. “He is Robert’s Hand because he knows what opening the Handship to the Lannisters will do! He stayed in King's Landing because Robert is a shitty king and the realm needs someone with brains to rule.”

Jon exhaled. “Dany, even with my father, even if we have the Tyrells and the Martells, if for some miracle the Tullys honour their blood tie to Robb and don’t decide to ignore it because of how Catelyn lost everything, a war this big… thousands would die, Dany. We would spend money and supplies we desperately need for winter. I can’t… I can’t just agree to it. I have to think about the thousands of men who would lay down their lives for our House. About the thousands of children and women and elders who would starve because we sent all our food to the troops. And I have to think that right now, as uneasy as it is, we _are_ safe, Dany. But if we start a war… if we start a war and we lose it, it won’t be only _our_ heads decorating spikes. It will be Lyanna’s and Little Addam’s as well. And if you don’t believe me, you should simply remember what Tywin Lannister ordered done to Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys, how Elia Martell ended up. Your good-sister, your niece, and your nephew. If that’s how _you_ want to end up, that’s your problem, but you’re not dragging my children into the mess with you!” He turned to leave.

“Our children!” Dany roared. “Do you really think I would allow…”

“I doubt your brother thought about _allowing_ any harm to come to his children. But shit happens, Dany! I will _not_ drive us and the rest of the realm into a fucking war because of a chair!”

“A throne! My father’s throne, the ancestral throne of my family! _My_ throne!”

“The ancestral people of your family are _dead_ , Daenerys! Our family is here, now! It’s me, you, Lyanna, and Little Addam! We are the ones who will get killed! Fuck them and fuck the Iron Throne! If taking it is the way to protect us, then we take it. We burn the Lannisters down, but we take it! But not while it can get us in danger!”

“We won’t be in danger!” she insisted once more. “We have more allies than they do! The Lannisters will band with the Baratheons, but we can beat them!”

“At what price, Dany?! Thousands of dead, thousands starving?”

She breathed out, furious, annoyed, but aware there was no counterargument to that point.

“You’re not seeing the big picture, Dany,” Jon softened, “you’re thinking about safety. In your mind you’ve decided that the Iron Throne means safety and you want that. You’re not seeing beyond that, you’re not seeing the thousands that will suffer because of it. We will fight back if we must, but can we be selfish and rise in rebellion without provocation?”

“You are right,” she conceded unwillingly. “Just remember that, while Rhaegar and Lyanna ran away together, the provocation for the last rebellion was the murder of your uncle and grandfather.”

She burst out of the room in a whirl of skirts, her blood racing in her veins, burning up in anger. Jon punched his desk, making everything on it rattle. Ghost poked his arm and he petted the direwolf’s head, but he was too furious. Grabbing Longclaw from the stand nearby and wrapping the belt in place, he stomped out of the room.

“Got it settled?” Addam asked once Jon came into the corridor.

“We’re going riding,” he said in lieu of an answer.

“I’ll take that as a no,” the knight said, unperturbed.

“She is too stubborn!” Jon complained.

Addam snorted. “You do know hypocrisy is not a virtuous quality, right?”

“I am not…” Jon started but then saw the look on the other’s face and cut himself short, admonished. “Fine, we’re both stubborn. But she is more stubborn than I am!”

“I believe Ayla once said something along the lines of it being like the pot calling the kettle back,” Addam said, highly amused.

Jon huffed, even more furious, and just continued on their way silently.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ella was smiling as she went into Ned’s solar.

“A little bird just brought me some news,” she said. “Well, you look to be in a very good mood!”

Ned smiled lazily and extended his hand out, pulling her to sit on his lap when she took it. He balanced his goblet on the side table and passed both arms around her.

“I should have kicked Baelish out years ago. Willas is the perfect man for the job — he is still learning all of the books, but he’s already having great ideas to make the Treasury flow better.”

“Not to mention that Willas doesn’t annoy you,” she said fondly. Ned cocked his head to the side and reached for the goblet, taking a sip. Ella took it from his hands and tried it. “Is this Dany’s new wine?”

“Aye. They gave us a few bottles and I felt like having some tonight. I would have waited for you, but I know you can’t drink.”

“I wish,” she muttered. “My milk didn’t come this time around. The whole anxiety, Maester Byren said. Much like what happened to Dany with Little Addam.”

“I can’t begin to imagine how upsetting this must be…” Ned said.

“Well, Serena is here and she is healthy. I much prefer that to having breasts filled with milk and no baby to drink it.” Ned hugged her strongly, knowing there was nothing to say. “But I don’t want to spoil the good mood,” she said after a moment. “Baelish is gone and you are happy.”

“Aye. Which reminds me — I was speaking to Lord Manderly about getting a ship ready and he said you had already made the arrangements with him. I thought you would jump at the opportunity!”

“Normally, I would have,” Ella said. “But I don’t know how keen I am to pretend I don’t know the castle or the people. Besides, I spoke with Allyria, Serena is too little: I’m not leaving her behind and I can’t bring her with us. She understood. Sansa and Arya will represent us.”

“Forget representing House Stark,” Ned said in a quiet voice. “It’s your sister’s wedding!”

“I know. But I am not risking our newborn daughter in such a voyage, nor am I prepared to leave her and go so far away. I’ll visit when Allyria is to have her first child.”

“If you are sure,” Ned said and they were quiet for a few moments. “Oh, you said you had news.”

“Oh, yes! Lord Varys said he just heard gossip from the Vale.”

“Gods, what has Lysa done now? I’m one headache away from taking the regency from her and giving the Eyrie and the boy to Lord Royce!”

“Well, I don’t know if it is a headache or the potential for one, but I doubt we’ll be celebrating it,” Ella chuckled. “Lady Arryn made an announcement: she is to marry Lord Baelish. As soon as possible.”

“I thought he loved Catelyn!” Ned was shocked.

Ella snorted. “Baelish is slippery and calculating enough to love himself above all. Whatever he feels or doesn’t feel for Catelyn, she is in the Sept now. But if he marries Lysa...”

“He’s got control of the Vale,” Ned finished the thought. “Others take him!” he cursed. “If I take the regency now, right after kicking him out of the Small Council, I might just start a diplomatic crisis.”

“Well, call it lucky stars if you want, but you sent Lord Royce a raven warning him of Baelish’s departure, didn’t you?”

“Aye. I knew he would come back to the Vale.”

“Well, it seems Lysa is a bit... complicated. Lord Royce took Robin to a tour of the Vale and, as the other Lord Declarants were eager, Lysa couldn’t refuse. He was in Runestone when Baelish arrived. Royce and the Waynwoods will try to keep him there and wrestle control of the Vale in name of ‘peace for the newlyweds’.”

“Lysa may go for it, but Baelish won’t,” Ned said with an eye roll. “He’ll try to wrestle control back.”

“It’s a Vale matter, Ned. You have nothing to do with it. You are not at all involved.”

“Maybe.” He exhaled heavily. “Unless it becomes a full-out war for the Lord of the Vale, then the Iron Throne will have to interfere.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it. Right now, let them sort their own issues.”

“Fine,” Ned grumpily agreed. “I’ll have Varys keep an eye out, just in case. Civil war in the Vale might not be the worst possible thing that could happen right now, but that doesn’t mean it would be nice.”

“When is war ever nice?” Ella wondered.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ayla burst into the room furiously, making Jon shrink a bit in his chair.

“This is bordering on ridiculous!” she said. “Patrik, collect these linens and unmake this makeshift bed,” she pointed to the sofa Jon had had made into a bed for the time being. “You have a bedchamber, you can sleep there!”

Patrik lowered his head and rushed to do what he was bid, trying to get out of the solar as quickly as possible.

“Aunt…” Jon started.

“Don’t even try! Your mother put me in charge of you and that does mean taking her place and knocking some sense into your thick, stubborn head when I must!”

“You shouldn’t be yelling, Aunt,” Jon said, concerned now.

“I’m the midwife here, not you!” She folded her hands on top of her baby bump, visibly annoyed. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were dropped on your head as a baby! But I know I didn’t do that, so I know that’s not the problem! The problem is your thick Stark stubbornness, clashing with Targaryen temper, and causing a whole fucking mess! And I am allowed to curse when I'm telling you to grow a backbone and go make peace with your wife.”

“Aunt Ayla…”

“Between you, Dany, and Benjen, I quite well know what’s going on. What I do _not_ know is why you’re playing a fool.”

“Why are you not telling Dany to apologise! It’s her—”

“There is no fault in an argument such as this, there are only two sides with two different views. And I have told her to apologise and she is quietly sitting down and waiting for you to make up. You are husband and wife, two adults, you don’t just go around ignoring each other like tantrummy children!”

“I can’t do what she wants me to do,” he said.

“Then _calmly_ tell her that.”

“I have! She is the one who blew up!”

“Well, then, try again. Shoo!” Ayla pushed him. “And I won’t hesitate in locking you two up in a broom cupboard until you’ve talked and made up if I must.”

Jon snorted, finding the image hilarious, and knowing it wasn’t an empty threat. He found Dany in their balcony, looking equally chastised.

“I see Aunt Ayla got to you too,” he said awkwardly.

“She slapped some sense into me,” Dany conceded. “Motherhood and Dornish temper are apparently a dangerous combination.” Then she took a deep breath. “I understand your argument about safety and the money and supplies for winter. I had not thought that far.”

“And I apologise for making it sound like you wanted to take the throne for vanity,” Jon said, stepping up next to her and taking her hand into his.

She exhaled and smiled sadly. “As soon as Robert dies, this war _will_ happen, Jon. Even if it’s in the middle of winter.”

“I know,” he exhaled heavily. “But we will be ready. I’ll increase investment in the army and the navy. Your wine got enough requests to justify increased production, so we might have more revenue for warships. When they come, they will fail, Dany.” She smiled and let him pull her into a hug. “Happy name day,” Jon said, running his fingers through the loose part of her hair. “I’m glad we made up and I can wish it.”

She chuckled. “I’m glad we made up as well. I would hate to pretend tonight at the feast.” She laughed now. “Besides, Lyanna wants to go riding with both of us and won't be dissuaded.”

Jon laughed. “Not that Aunt Ayla would allow a fight to drag, but let’s agree to not let it go further than a few hours?”

“Well, with your Stark stubbornness and my Targaryen temper, I’m sure we will have enough times to perfect the making up part.”

They laughed and hugged again.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Dear milady,_

_You do not need to apologise. I will not forgive you because I see nothing that needs forgiving. Of course you stayed in King’s Landing, you needed to support your sister. And I do not think it is stupid, I think it is very noble of you. Prince Joffrey sounds like a terrible person! I only ever heard rumours when I lived in Flea Bottom, but he was very disliked in the city, and I am sure in Court as well. I think few people will mourn him, especially when he died in disgrace._

_I have been dragging Hot Pie to lessons at least once a week, but he skips them whenever he can. And I have been badgering him for days to write to you, but he simply ignores me. He is very happy: with your indication, he got the job in the castle’s kitchens. He is still helping out in the village bakery when he can, but he is living up here in the dorm now._

_As for Nymeria, she really misses you. When the Starlings and Crystarks went south, she actually came and stayed with me at the forge most of the time, except when she and the others went hunting. I must confess it is nice to have her around, she is like a silent version of you, but still capable of telling me I am being stupid. Not to mention how well she and Drennan get along._

_I look forward to seeing you when you visit,_

_Your friend,_

_Gendry_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Margaery laughed as they galloped across the green expanses near her new home. In the Reach, in Highgarden, the air smelled sweet with the aromas of the fruits planted all around; in King's Landing, the air carried the heavy smells of pollution, of waste, of the sweat of too many people pushed together; at the Wall, the air was stale, old, and cold; in the Midnight Fortress, it smelled like the sea, but spiced with the fire of the volcano; but here… here it smelled like a lush forest, like pine, it smelled pure and welcoming. She loved it immediately. She slowed to a stop next to Robb.

“What happened?” she asked. “Aren’t we close?”

“I want to make a surprise!” He was smiling widely as he dismounted and then came to help her down. “Humour me?”

Margaery chuckled at her husband’s antics but took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the crest of the hill — she was loving the geography! Then she gasped as the castle came into view. It was grey and huge and even from a distance she could guess it was ever growing. It was not perfectly designed like a southern castle, it looked like every lord had added something to it, to make it theirs, something unique. How delightful wouldn’t it be to spend her life learning its secrets and watching her children brave it as well!

“What do you think?” Robb asked and she could hear the anxiety in his voice.

“I think it’s marvellous,” she smiled. “Take me home, my lord husband. Take me home and let us see what our future holds.”

Robb smiled widely and picked her up in his arms, twirling her around and making her laugh, carrying her to her mare, and helping her mount. Then he went back up his own saddle and they raced home. _Home_. It sounded so perfect!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_My dear father,_

_We arrived at the Midnight Fortress and we will stay for a while. Whatever the Archmaester and Maester Aemon talked about, he wants to be here. We will be leaving the castle to explore the volcano soon, as he thinks he will find something there. I will write when we are back in the castle._

_Love,_

_Sarella Sand_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Margaery smiled giddily as she came back to her chambers that morning, her little package shaking in her hands.

“Where did you go?” Robb asked as she came in. “It’s too early for breakfast.”

“I just needed to check something,” she said. “And I’ve got your name day present.” She extended the little package.

Robb laughed as he unwrapped it. “You didn’t need to wake up at dawn to—” he cut himself short as he the contents of the package were revealed: a pair of little woollen baby shoes. “Margaery?”

“I am with child!” she exclaimed. “Maester Luwin just confirmed it!”

He laughed, hugging her and kissing her deeply.

“This is the best name day present I could ever have gotten!”

“Oh, so should I get rid of the actual present I have waiting downstairs?” she jested.

He laughed and just pulled her into another kiss. And they were late for breakfast.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Cersei watched from her windows as the retinue arrived in the main courtyard.

“Who is that?” she asked. The handmaiden only shrugged and continued on with her work.

Cersei kept on watching as Uncle Kevan came and spoke with one of the guards, watched as they moved around and finally a trunk was taken from the cart. She frowned. Even from this far, she could see that it was a trunk to hold a person’s bones. It was simple, solid wood with no engravings, so it held the remains of someone with little to no importance — though usually that kind of people was buried in the nearby sept in a coffin without the ritual of embalming the Silent Sisters performed.

But why would such a person have been brought to the Rock? And why would Uncle Kevan have gone to receive it? But then she stiffened. The guard was now taking a sword from the back of the cart, laying it on the trunk, and she recognised it. It was the sword she had commissioned for Joffrey after their return from Winterfell, after he had lost his old sword, Lion’s Tooth, to the horrid Stark girl. Her heart faltered and she rushed out of the room, running as fast as her legs could carry her.

Kevan cursed when she burst into the hall.

“Send a runner to Lord Lannister and tell Lady Genna to rush here,” he told a guard next to him. The man nodded and ran out to fulfil his orders. “Your Grace, you shouldn’t…”

“Who is that? Whose bones are these?” Cersei demanded.

“Cersei, please, let us go—” Kevan tried, but she wouldn’t be dissuaded.

“Why is my son’s sword on that trunk?!” she yelled. “Answer me! I am your Queen! What is in the trunk?! Why is Prince Joffrey’s sword here?”

“Cersei, you’re yelling in front of the servants,” Kevan warned quietly. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Where is my son! Where is Joffrey?”

“Oh, but he did not!” Genna snorted as she rushed down the stairs. “Come, Cersei, let’s talk in private.”

“I want to know!” Cersei yelled.

Genna took her hands in hers — she understood all too well the heart of a mother. Something Tywin, clearly, didn’t. And that would cost them at least a huge explosion.

“I will tell you,” Genna said. “I thought you knew already, honestly, but I _will_ tell you, I promise. Now come along.”

Cersei blanched, completely unresponsive now, but let her aunt lead her away. They walked up and across the castle to the Lord’s solar. Tywin merely raised his head when they entered.

“Cersei. It seems we must talk.”

“Where is Joffrey?” she asked again.

Tywin ignored the uncomfortable look from his brother and the reproachful one from his sister, focusing only on his daughter.

“He is dead,” he declared. “His bones have just arrived from the capital.”

Cersei laughed hysterically and the other three only watched as she let it out.

“You have never been much of a jester, Father,” she finally said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Joffrey is not dead. He can’t be. Jaime is in King's Landing, protecting him. And besides, he wouldn’t have let the body arrive without sending a raven! We would have known moons ago!”

“That is an interesting point you make, Cersei,” Genna said. “Jaime did send a raven. Right, Tywin?”

“What?” Cersei wiped around. “Father… you can’t… you _knew_?” Then she looked around the room, remembering the reactions of her uncle and aunt. They hadn’t been surprised at the delivery. They had been surprised at her surprise. “You knew my son was… and you didn’t tell me?”

“I am telling you now,” Tywin said simply, sitting back on his chair. “The boy disgraced himself and—”

But Cersei roared in fury and crossed the room to him, pushing him chair and all to the ground. Tywin fell down, shocked, flabbergasted with the development.

“How could you!” Cersei yelled.

Before anyone could recover, she burst out of the room, stomping and slamming doors on her way.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!  
> Hope you've enjoyed this chapter -- it's a transition one into our next arc, what means we'll start having some time jumps now.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on in Westeros, until trouble strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beloved readers!  
> Just letting you guys know that this chapter, like the last one, is an interlude filled with time jumps, covering a space of nearly two years. So keep in mind as you read that from one raven to the next months could have passed.

_My dear brother,_

_It is my greatest delight to announce the birth of my second son, Lord Willam Crystark. Both he and Lady Crystark fare well. We look forward to the next family reunion!_

_Love,_

_Lord Benjen of House Crystark, Lord of Crystalia_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tywin huffed, annoyed, when he came into his solar to find his sister sitting at his desk.

“What do you want, Genna?”

“You know you can’t keep Cersei locked up forever, don’t you?” she asked.

“She attacked me!”

“Oh, please, Tywin, don’t be childish! You kept from her the idiocy Joffrey did and that he was facing trial, you hid that he had lost said trial and his crown, you hid that he had impaled himself out of sheer stupidity, and you hid that his bones were on their way here. And let’s not mention that you are still hiding from her that Tommen and Myrcella have been shipped off to Dragonstone with only Jaime as company and the rest of the redcoats in King's Landing are being sent home. You’re lucky all she did was throw you on your arse.”

“What difference would it have made? She would have attacked me three moon turns earlier. Or she would have been pestering me to call the banners. You know I can’t do that! I have no ground on which to base a challenge! I would only look weak. Joffrey dug his own grave with his foolish actions! I still tried to salvage the situation, but Stannis Baratheon came and fucked up the trial by combat. There was never any chance for Joffrey to beat any opponent by himself. And attacking Robb Stark from his back with everyone watching is simply unacceptable. He could have come here and lived the rest of his life in disgrace but comfort, but he decided to be a moron. Now he will be remembered in an even worse light and Cersei’s motherhood will never be trusted again. We lost Tommen and Myrcella with that. I cannot do anything, my hands are tied.”

“Yes, Tywin, we all read the ravens and letters Jaime and Stafford sent. And we understand the situation. Cersei—”

“Cersei is a mother. You, women, are too fickle when it comes to emotions.”

“Take care who you call fickle, brother,” Genna warned. “The point is that you betrayed your daughter in the worst way imaginable. If before she might have listened and done what you ordered done, now she will rebel and act out and the gods know what else. You have to fix it.”

“Oh, is that why you want me to unlock her door? So she can start the insanity now?” Tywin asked sarcastically.

“Tywin, you are being ridiculous. For now, no one will question her ‘disappearance’, she is in mourning and all. Not that she was such a public person before. But soon enough people will start whispering that the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms is locked up in her chambers without dessert like an errant child and then we will be in for a scandal!”

“We can claim it was the Targaryen blood that came down from Robert that made Joffrey mad,” Tywin said, skirting the subject.

Genna’s eyes narrowed. Indeed, it was a good external excuse, though obviously it didn’t apply, as Joffrey did not have one drop of Baratheon or Targaryen blood.

“That’s a dangerous move,” she said, “and likely to get you in even more trouble with Robert.”

“I don’t care what Robert Baratheon—”

“Don’t be simple, Tywin! Robert Baratheon is the King, however stupid and irresponsible he is! Ned Stark is his Hand — you have been in uneasy terms since the Sack, it only deteriorated ever since he got to King's Landing, and this latest business puts you as open enemies. You have no influence over the Small Council and no way to be aware of the decisions since Lord Baelish is gone. You are even losing your financial power over the throne.”

Tywin pursed his lips. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“I am a Lannister, brother, it has everything to do with me. I happen to know we are producing very little gold right now, barely enough to sustain the Rock. You cannot afford the Night's Watch dues being charged now and Ned Stark’s order is to take that against the Crown debt and that means that soon enough even that you will lose. And then _you_ will be the one in debt. Our position is weakening by the day. You cannot afford Cersei’s grief and you cannot afford the backlash of not smothering it.”

“How do you know all that?” Tywin asked, flabbergasted.

“I’m not just a pretty face, brother.”

“If we can get the Kingdoms to whisper that Joffrey’s madness is because of Robert’s Targaryen ancestry, if we can turn the people against the Iron Throne…”

Genna sighed. “You know that’s not true, Tywin.”

“Oh, so you want me to believe that it is Cersei’s fault? That it was her blood, my blood, that made the boy mad? Madness is a thing from the Targaryen line, their awful inbreeding caused that. Robert’s grandmother was a Targaryen Princess, that’s where the madness come from!”

Genna was shocked. Did he truly… but he couldn’t… was her brother _really_ that blind? Did he truly not see what was right under his nose?

“Say what you will, brother,” she said after a moment, recovered. “But I don’t think it will help. Connecting it to you or not, Robert will be furious when he hears about it. He hates the dragons and he will absolutely despise being reminded that he shares their blood. And I don’t think I need to remind you that, whichever his faults, _you_ are the one who made only enemies of the other Kingdoms. Whatever they feel against Robert, they hate you much more. But I know you will do as you please, so I won’t waste my time.”

She stood up and crossed the room, not bothering to look behind. Outside, she stopped and exhaled. _Men!_ Genna cursed mentally. _How dare he call me fickle when he only sees what he wants to see?!_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Cersei stared at the letters and ravens spread across her desk. All the messages Jaime, Lord Baelish, and Uncle Stafford had sent ever since the madness begun, all gathered and brought over by Aunt Genna. Cersei had refused her entry until she said she had the messages, but had asked to be alone again soon enough. Tywin hadn’t yet tried to visit, but the Queen wasn’t sure that would have been a good idea anyway. She had never thought she could hate her own father, her beloved father, that much. Her son had needed her and, instead of telling her as much, Tywin had concocted a crazy plan that failed and hid the truth from her. She should have been told the moment Jaime’s raven arrived, then she could have sent a raven demanding that the trial awaited her arrival in the capital. After all, she was still the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. But she had been kept from the truth and now her son, her sweet boy, was dead. Humiliated by Robb Stark. Impaled because Jon Starling had pushed him. And Robert had been a spineless fool. He had walked away, probably to go looking for wine and a whore or two. And her father had kept it all from her. What if she hadn't seen Joffrey’s bones arriving? Would he have had it buried next to Mother and continued to keep it from her? Would she have been told only when she returned to King's Landing? And Tommen and Myrcella! How terribly scared and lonely and in grief they must be! How much they must need their mother!

She stood up and went to look out the balcony doors at the ocean below. After a few moments, she had made up her mind: if her father said he couldn’t call the banners because the trial was seemingly legal, then she would demand her return to the capital. This had all happened because Robert had sent her away and left Joffrey, her sweet Joffrey, alone without parental guidance. Her poor, innocent son, he had been misguided because of neglect. She wouldn’t allow Tommen to suffer the same fate. She would make sure she was there to raise him properly. Even if the cost was to blow up Casterly Rock.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The climate in King's Landing was still somewhat uncomfortable. Things had cooled down since the ill-fated trial by combat, but the King and the Lord Hand were still at odds. Robert had descended into a pit of hopelessness: he spent his days with wine and whores and barely made it out of his chambers, unless he felt his ‘urge to kill something’ rise and then he went into the Kingswood to hunt.

Ned still hadn't forgiven Robert for putting Robb in danger, especially for how it had almost turned badly for Jon — he swore his son had a homing signal for danger! Though he had to admit that Robert had been useful and even essential in charming the lords into honouring the long-forgotten taxes due to the Night's Watch: with the gold slowly tricking in now — bound to normalise in the coming year, when the lords had prepared for it — they were able to stop borrowing money. Casterly Rock was not paying anything, so Ned told Willas to deduct the amount from the debt the Crown owed them — which was the same deal offered to the Tyrells, so that Tywin Lannister couldn’t complain about different treatment. Slowly, they would be able to start paying off their debts to the Iron Bank and the Faith, and then without a pile of interest to haunt them, they would be able to bring the Treasury back to normal again. Even if it was going to take a few years.

So, with the two old friends not on speaking terms, life crawled back to normal. Day after day, week after week, life went on. Sansa refused to go back North, saying Ella needed her in the capital — she had had a hard time in childbed, given the turmoil they were living in during the last few weeks of her pregnancy, so begrudgingly Ned accepted that his daughters would remain in the capital for a while longer.

It was the last few days of the tenth moon now, the _Lady Daenerys_ was in town making deliveries, and the captain brought a long letter from Jon. Other than tales from his grandchildren’s marauderies and request of his opinion on something, it brought great news, which Ned went to deliver to his wife with a huge smile.

“Daenerys is pregnant again!”

“Oh, but that is amazing!” Ella said, delighted. “She must be so happy!”

“Well, Jon certainly is howling at the moon!” Ned said.

Serena woke up then, demanding attention, and Ella picked her up.

“We are going to have another baby boom in a few moons,” she said. “Margaery, Daenerys, and Gilly are expecting!”

“Well, when it comes to babies, I think the more, the merrier,” Ned said, making funny faces at his daughter, making her giggle.

“Coming from you, it’s easy enough to understand. You do have five sons and three daughters,” she said with a fond smile.

“Four daughters,” he murmured. “Just because one was stolen from us doesn’t mean she is any less our daughter,” he affirmed. Ella curved her lips in a small smile and blinked back tears. “Think we can make it a round dozen?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood. It worked and she laughed.

“I don’t know if I have enough years in my old body for three more,” she said. “But if the gods are willing, I do think that the more the merrier as well!”

“Good,” he said, kissing her temple. “I did say we should try and grow the people of the North.”

Ella snorted, but finally sat down with Serena, who had started to complain of hunger.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“Pwesents!!!” Lyanna exclaimed as soon as the servants brought a pile of them into the room, making everyone laugh. They had just finished having a huge breakfast feast to celebrate her third name day and she was beyond excited.

“We’ll open them one at a time,” Dany said, amused at seeing that Jon was just as eager as their daughter.

The girl gasped and jumped with excitement at every new thing they unwrapped. Finally, Grenn and Patrik carried a huge box inside.

“What this, Mama?” Lyanna asked, standing up and rushing to it.

“This is from Grandfather and Grandmother, my love,” Dany said. “Come on, let’s see what it is.”

She accepted Jon’s hand to stand from the sofa, her baby bump still discreet and barely visible under her dress, and they went to where Lyanna was eagerly trying to pry the box open. Dany nodded to Grenn and Patrik and they took out the lid and pulled the front away. Lyanna gasped and then opened a huge smile.

“Look, my love, how amazing!” Dany said. “What do you think?”

Lyanna propelled herself through the opening and inside the dollhouse, gasping and laughing delighted at the interior.

“That will keep her occupied on rainy days,” Jon said quietly.

“Mama, this all mine?” Lyanna poked her head out the little window.

“You are going to have to take good care of all your dolls now,” Dany said with a fond smile. “This will be their home.” The girl smiled and vanished back inside. “Gods bless Ella and her good ideas!” The adults laughed.

“Lya, aren’t you lonely in there?” Ayla asked.

“Shhhh, Auntie!” Lyanna said from inside. A moment later, she poked her head out the window again. “Blue just sleep!”

“Oh, but if Blue is sleeping we shouldn’t be here making noise, right?” Jon asked. “How about we go see what Papa and Mama got you?”

“I have more pwesents, Papa?”

“Just one more, my love,” Dany said. “Let’s see what it is?”

Lyanna nodded eagerly and came outside the dollhouse, starting to pull Jon’s hand towards the door.

“Ah-ah-ah, what did we say about running?” Jon asked with a raised brow.

“Sorry, Papa,” she stopped. “We go now?” He chuckled and led the way down to the courtyard. On the entrance hall, he put his hands over her eyes. “Papa!”

“It’s a surprise, little love!” Jon said, amused, helping her outside. “Are you ready for your present?”

“Aye, Papa!” Chuckling, Jon took his hands away and Lyanna blinked, looking around. “Papa? Is…”

Jon crossed the few steps to the present.

“What do you think, Lya? Do you like your present?”

“This mine, Papa?”

“Yes, love,” Dany said. “Do you like it?”

“All mine?” Lyanna asked, still incredulous.

“Unless you don’t want it…” Jon said, smirking.

“No!” Lyanna exclaimed running over. “Mine!” She smiled widely. “Beautiful horsey!”

Jon chuckled, picking her up and lifting her to pet the pony’s nose.

“She’s still a child, little love, just like you,” he said. “You’re going to grow up together, what do you think about that?”

“Aye, Papa!”

The filly huffed, clearly pleased with the petting. Lyanna only giggled, scratching between the ears.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_My dear brother,_

_After a few moon turns, it is my greatest delight to announce that Lady Crystark is with child again. I am unable to describe my happiness in words!_

_Love,_

_Lord Benjen of House Crystark, Lord of Crystalia_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_My dear brother,_

_I am one moon turn behind you, but it is also to my utter delight that I announce Lady Stark is with child as well. We have been blessed, brother, after all the turmoil our family has been through. Please do tell me how was Lord Willas and Lady Wynafryd’s wedding and whether Little Addam enjoyed his name day present._

_Love,_

_Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, Warden of the North, and Hand of the King_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_My dearest father,_

_It is with a bursting heart and high spirits that I announce the birth of my first son and heir, your second grandson. Lady Margaery suggested, to my eager agreement, that we name him Lord Eddard. We shall call him Little Ned, in honour of the best father in all of the Seven Kingdoms. We hope you can meet him soon, Father!_

_Love,_

_Lord Robb of House Stark_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_To Lord Tywin of House Lannister,_

_We at the Iron Bank have received the business proposal you negotiated with our envoy and would like to inform you that it has been accepted. We look forward to prospering with your business._

_Kind regards,_

_Tycho Nestoris_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_My beloved mother,_

_I am delighted to announce the birth of my son, Lord Jon of House Tarly of the Blessed Island. Lady Tarly is very well and they are both in good health. I hope you can meet him soon, Mother!_

_Love,_

_Lord Samwell of House Tarly of the Blessed Island_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jeor Mormont smiled when he unrolled the raven scroll and read its small message. He stood from his desk and crossed the castle down to the library. He was still in a state of delighted disbelief when he looked around: there were a few wildlings trading and helping build up ruined towers, in exchange for builders and stonemasons helping over at the Nightfort. As a result, Castle Black looked well-kept, as it hadn’t looked in centuries. The forge was busy forging weapons from the dragonglass being sent up from the Blessed Island and thanks to the taxes finally being paid, they had enough gold to buy supplies and food. He knew they would have much more money if they were receiving the full amount, but he had understood Lord Stark’s need to fix the Treasury and he felt he owed it to the man after he was going to enforce the payment of the taxes they hadn’t seen and wouldn’t see otherwise. This deal ensured money to both of them, so why be greedy?

“Aemon?” he called, entering the library.

“I’m here,” the Maester replied, making Mormont walk further inside to where he sat on his favourite armchair by the fire. “What is it? I sense you have news.”

Mormont chuckled. “I do. There was a raven from Lady Starling. It is actually meant for you, but it was given to me.”

“Well, it’s not like I can read it,” the old man said. “What does she say?”

“She has recently given birth to another son,” Mormont announced.

“Oh, how marvellous, more little children! How do they fare?”

“Well,” Mormont said. “But this is the best part, as I see it: they named the boy ‘Lord Aemon Starling, in honour of my dearest uncle and in the hope that he will be just as wise’.”

Maester Aemon couldn’t hold back his tears of emotion.

“I don’t know if I am worthy of the honour,” he whispered.

“Of course you are, Aemon. Would you like me to write down your response?” Mormont asked.

“Yes, my friend, I would very much like that.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Daenerys found herself in a forest again, running through the trees. She remembered a similar dream a couple of years ago. She continued walking through the rows of ancient northern trees and, just like before, when it opened into a clearing, there was a huge weirwood heart tree in the middle. Once she saw the laughing face of the heart tree, the entire wood began to laugh. But why? Why were the trees laughing? She heard a noise and turned around._

_“Rhaegar!” she gasped._

_“Hello, little sister,” he said._

_“This is another vision, isn’t it? It’s not a dream,” she said, taking in the features of her brother. He was familiar, but more so than from the two flashes in old dreams. There was something about the shape of his cheekbones…_

_“We are Targaryens, Dany. Dreams and visions sometimes are the same thing to us.”_

_“Why are they laughing?” she asked, looking around._

_“I can’t tell you everything, sister. And we don’t even have a lot of time. You have been to the Wall. Jon has crossed to the Lands of Always Winter. You must be careful, Dany. They are marching south. They come closer every day.”_

_“How do you know about that?” she asked, growing more confused by the moment._

_“I know a lot, little sister. You must be careful. The Red Priestess will be helpful, but do not trust in her powers of resurrection. Every death kills a little bit of your soul. Lyanna might not be able to protect Jon the next time.”_

_“Lyanna…” Dany whispered. “The Rebellion was a lie, wasn’t it? You and Lyanna ran away together, right?”_

_Rhaegar only smiled melancholically. “Something is coming, Dany. When he taunts you, you must remember: after the Doom, all dragons are Targaryens, but not all Targaryens are dragons.”_

_“What does that mean?”_

_“I told you, I can’t tell you everything. But you will understand what I am saying when the time is right. And when you do, tell him I wish it could have been different.”_

_“Tell who?” Dany was beyond confused now._

_“You are so lucky, Dany, that you didn’t have to suffer under our father’s madness. I let it go too far, I thought I was helping by trying to make the realm work apart from him, and I failed. But you were raised by a good man.” He laughed. “The Usurper has no idea what he did.”_

_“What he— you mean betrothing me and Jon? You… you don’t disapprove, do you?”_

_“You and Jon were always meant to be, little sister. Even if I wish things had been different.” The trees began to laugh ever harder. “Happy name day, Dany. I wish you a very long life. And remember: when you come west, you must let them through the Fourteen. Fire thrives in fire, Dany.”_

_“When I come… am I going to cross Westeros to the other coast?”_

_“It will mean something at the right time, Dany.”_

_“Rhaegar, you are making no sense!”_

_But the trees were reaching deafening levels of sound now and she was jolted awake._

 

“Wha’? Whatchisit?” Jon asked, jarred from sleep, still addled.

“Nothing,” Dany said, taking deep breaths, burrowing deeper into his embrace. “Only a nightmare.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_My dear brother,_

_I have daughters! After over a day of labour, when we were all very worried, it became clear why my lady wife felt the pains earlier: it is because she carried two little girls and the space was too snug to fit them both. Lady Crystark is very tired, but she will recover quickly, and my daughters are healthy, though small. We are naming them Lady Lyarra and Lady Rhea, after our mothers._

_Love,_

_Lord Benjen of House Crystark, Lord of Crystalia_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_My dearest grandmother,_

_I am thrilled to announce that once again I am with child. Little Ned is such a good boy and already he will become a big brother. Robb, obviously, wishes for another son, though I would like to have a daughter to keep me company, to whom I will teach all that you taught me. Winterfell is lovely, but I miss you terribly, Grandmother!_

_Love,_

_Lady Margaery Tyrell of House Stark_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_My dear brother,_

_I have a new little girl! She was in such a hurry to get here that they barely had the time to call me from the throne room, where I was holding Court in the King’s behalf. Lady Stark was very glad it was over quickly and they are both very well. I have decided to name her Lady Dyanna Stark._

_Love,_

_Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, Warden of the North, and Hand of the King_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_My dearest mother,_

_It is my pleasure to announce that Lady Tarly is once again expecting a child. We hope you can make a visit soon to meet your grandchildren._

_Love,_

_Lord Samwell of House Tarly of the Blessed Island_

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Gendry wasn’t in the least surprised when he heard the female voice telling off the loitering apprentices taking too long a lunch break outside. He knew that she was staying for a while even if all of the guests had already left after Lord Addam’s name day feast. Arya had been furious that she had needed to stay inside and act like a lady in front of the visiting lords, but she was the one representing House Stark since Lord and Lady Stark had needed to stay in the capital; Lady Sansa had stayed behind as well, too busy planning her wedding; and Lord Robb and Lady Margaery had remained in Winterfell since she was heavily with child.

There was a gust of icy wind when Arya opened the door, the bite of late snow in the air sending a shiver down his spine, and Gendry put his hammer aside. Nymeria attacked him first, jumping excitedly and wagging her tail though she had only disappeared from his side at dawn and it was barely midday.

Then he saw her. Arya. She was wearing her riding breeches and leather jerkin, clearly intending to go out with a horse. She had changed, too, in the year since he’d seen her last, and Gendry couldn't prevent his gaping — ever since her arrival, she had been stuck with dresses, prim and proper, and so he hadn’t seen her in riding garments. Not that they had had much time to talk with the castle filled with highborns.

Gone were the boyish features and the little-girl’s body. Her dark brown hair was long, falling down her back as far as her waist and styled into an intricate braid to keep it off her face as she rode. She had blossomed, curves growing in all the proper places and the breeches made her toned legs seem even longer. And while she was still petite and would never hold her sister’s southern beauty, Arya looked like the true Northerner she was. She still had a long face, but it had grown into something definitely feminine and beguiling. The only thing that had remained the same were her eyes — two pools of shining grey, excited and always craving the next big adventure.

“Why are you looking stupid?” she asked in her usual blunt manner.

Gendry chuckled, forcing his chin closed. “Sorry. I guess I… I didn't know you’d stop by today. Should’ve suspected, though, once Nymeria disappeared. She usually gives me a warning when she goes off.”

Arya smiled. “Dany said Nymeria’s been glued to your side since last year.”

“They’ve noticed up at the castle?” he panicked.

“No,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Well, Dany did, but she won’t cause trouble.”

“Your brother is going to skin me alive.”

She threw her head back in laughter. “We’re not Boltons, stupid. And that’s been outlawed in the North for generations, much to their dislike. Besides, Dany wouldn't let him.”

Gendry grumbled under his breath, picking up his hammer again. Arya rolled her eyes, but kept quiet, resigning herself to cross the rest of the way inside the forge and jump onto the counter he was working at. He spared her a glance before going back to his work.

“What are you doing?” she asked after a few moments of silence went by. Nymeria had happily settled in front of the fire and curled up for a nap.

Gendry sighed before turning to her. “Lord Tarly and I have been working together on a project.”

“Oh. Is it still the same mysterious thing you’ve been working on for ages?”

“Yes,” Gendry said. “We’re almost there, though the gears have been nightmarish.”

“And what is the thing with the awful gears?”

“Lord Tarly had an idea. And then he saw me practising with metal letters and his idea grew bigger.” Gendry shrugged.

Arya was displeased with his tight-lip. She jumped down from the counter and rooted around his workplace, searching for something interesting, seeing that he wouldn’t say anything else. “What is this?” she asked, holding up a crude looking dagger.

“Dragonglass,” Gendry answered, putting his hammer aside again, turning to face her as he leaned against the counter.

“What for? What could you possibly attack with a dagger like this?”

Gendry shrugged — if her brother hadn't told her, he wasn't going to be the one to. He had a hard-enough time believing it himself. “Lord Starling’s got a deal with the Night’s Watch or something.”

“Oh, is this about those icy monsters he and Robb saw beyond the Wall years ago? Gilly was telling me the ‘real’ story after I caught her telling terrifying bedtime stories to the babies. It reminded me of Old Nan.”

“All I know is that after he went to the Wall, Lord Starling started to mine dragonglass, even though everyone said it was going to be more expensive than what it sold for. But he ain’t selling—”

“He isn’t selling it,” she corrected.

“Right, he isn’t selling it, he is giving it to the Watch. Or there’s some deal to do with taxes. I don’t know, it’s none of my business.”

Arya shrugged. “So, what else is new here?”

 “Not much.” He shrugged as well. “How is the capital?”

“Why? Do you miss it?”

“Not in the least. Best decision I made was take this job.”

Arya smirked, biting her lip and stepping closer. “The best? Really?”

He held her back at arm’s length. “You’re a—”

“Don’t call me a lady. We’ve been through it enough times.”

“Doesn't change the fact that you are a highborn. I'm nothing.”

“I hate it when you talk like that,” she grumbled.

“It’s the truth.”

“It’s a stupid truth! My uncle and my father both married commoners. What is the problem?”

“The problem is that your uncle was set to inherit nothing and your father had already married a lady and had heirs. You’re a daughter of a Great House, you have no business messing around with lowborns.”

“You’re forgetting one thing,” Arya said, huffing in anger. “I don't care about what other people say. And I only do what I damn well want.”

She pulled him down by his collar and though he was infinitely stronger than her, he didn't have any strength to resist her. She had stolen that away through the years, being an adorable rebellious little girl, a tentative friend, forcing him to learn how to read so they could exchange letters when she was in King’s Landing.

The loud banging of the castle’s bells threw them apart.

“What is it?” Arya asked, confused at his panicked face.

“That is the armoury’s warning bells,” Gendry said, picking up his cloak. “Come on, I’ll walk you inside the castle.”

“But what is happening?”

“Trouble,” was all he said as they walked outside. “Come on, let’s go.”

Soldiers were running about and, looking out to the sea, they could see the coast defences throwing flaming lead balls on three escaping ships. Arya looked back in the direction of Sunstone Town and saw two Starling warships pushing off from the harbour.

“We are under attack,” she whispered unbelievingly.

“Come on,” Gendry insisted, pulling her hand. “Whatever it is, they’ll be looking for you at the castle.”

“What if they are at the castle?”

“Nah, the panic would be greater. Ships are chasing those others — whoever it is, they fled on those.”

Arya let herself be guided from the forge to the castle, Nymeria circling around them attentive to a threat. Gendry insisted on seeing her to her family, so the guards allowed him inside. If Arya had thought Dany was prone to dragonfire rage when she was beyond pissed off, it did not compare to what she was seeing of her brother once they walked into the Audience Hall.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So finally we reach the first sneak peak, "Trouble". I hope the time jumps weren't too confusing and you were able to keep up :)
> 
> I'll give the characters' ages just to help you situate better, but to start: this story (or rather, part I: Summer) begins at the very end of 296 AL and right now we are in late March 302 AL, so roughly a bit over 5 years after. Also, I'll try and make some family trees to help keep track of the babies :)  
> Ned + Catelyn = Robb (20) – Sansa (16) – Arya (14) – Bran (13) – Rickon (9)  
> Ned + Ashara = Lyarra (†) – Cregan (almost 3) – Serena (1) – Dyanna (5 months)  
> Jon (20) + Dany (19) = Lyanna (4) – Little Addam (3) – Aemon (10 months)  
> Robb (20) + Margaery (18) = Little Ned (1) – pregnant  
> Benjen + Ayla = Rickard (almost 3) – Willam (1) – Lyarra and Rhea (6 months)  
> Sam (22) + Gilly (17) = Little Sam (2) – Little Jon (10 months) – pregnant  
> Willas + Wynafryd = Lucas (3 months)  
> Gendry = 19  
> Tommen = 11  
> Myrcella = 12
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are beyond welcome and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things in the Midnight Fortress are chaotic after the attack and Dany receives another warning.

It was getting to noon when Addam headed to the Lord’s chambers. Jon and Daenerys had slept in and requested breakfast in their chambers, so the knight had headed for the training grounds for some morning exercise. He knew Jon and Arya had made arrangements for a picnic lunch in the woods after a ride, so he thought it was time to get Jon out of bed or tell Arya that their plans would be delayed — and that was sure to go over well.

“They still in?” Addam asked the two guards on duty at the red doors.

“Aye, Ser. Doreah brought them breakfast earlier, but no one’s been by. Well, Lady Arya stopped by, rolled her eyes, and asked us to inform her lord brother that she would go riding by herself.”

“I'm sure she did.” Addam chuckled. “Now look who it is!”

“Uncle!” Lyanna ran down the corridor, jumping into Addam’s arms. “Can we go riding, Uncle? Snow is bored!”

The man laughed. The girl had taken a great liking to her filly, white as snow but with a dark brown mane, and they had been inseparable ever since they were introduced well over a year ago.

“Your Papa and Mama are still sleeping, love.”

“It’s late, Uncle! It’s time to go riding now!”

Addam laughed harder. “Alright, how about I go check with your Papa if he is ready to wake up?”

“Yay! We go!”

“You can wait with Ghost,” Addam said, putting her down.

The guards opened the door and the knight led the girl inside, but then stiffened. Ghost was lying sprawled in the sitting room and the door to the bedchamber was open, as was the servant’s door. There were no signs of struggle, but it sure looked like something had happened. Something other than a love-filled young couple in a lusty romp.

“Ghost!” Lyanna exclaimed, but Addam held her back.

“Wait, Lya. Guards!” He pulled his sword out and nearly gave the order to have Lyanna taken back to her chambers, but was suddenly unwilling to have her out of his sight. The rooms were quiet enough to suppose there was no one else left.

“Ser Addam?” Grenn called from the door, his sword also out.

“Lya, go with Grenn. Do not leave his side, do you understand me?”

Lyanna was visibly scared, but nodded. Addam was worried, but he and Jon had trained the other man themselves, so he was confident in his abilities.

“Ghost is only sleeping,” he announced after checking, frowning at the half-eaten piece of meat next to the direwolf. Obviously, they had doused him with a sleeping potion in order to get inside. He moved to the bedchamber and opened the door all the way to make sure there was no one behind it. “Room is empty! Someone go get Rellos and the maester!” he called, rushing to where Jon was lying on the ground, exhaling in pure relief once he saw his chest moving up and down with the rhythm of his breath.

Checking the room once more, making sure there were no stragglers, Addam sheathed his sword and tried to shake Jon awake, having no success.

“Ser Addam?” Leeds called, coming inside also with his sword out. “What do we know?”

“He was knocked out,” Addam said, “and someone put Ghost to sleep. I want a search party looking for Lady Starling and all the children gathered in the same nursery, guards posted at all doors and inside the room. Make sure Lord and Lady Crystark and Lord and Lady Tarly are safe and someone send a rider after Lady Arya.”

“Our guards were attacked down at the pier,” Wex said, running inside, a bit out of breath. “Rellos is securing the castle, but the guard that is still alive said they seemed to be taking Lady Starling downriver.”

“They wouldn’t be stupid to take her to Sunstone, they know our raven would reach the harbour before they did,” Addam said. “Alert them anyway and alert the watch posts downriver. And get me Ser Davos.” He heard Lyanna’s stressed voice in the other room. “Let her through,” he called. “We don’t need her upset right now.”

“Papa!” she exclaimed, running over. “He sleeping, Uncle?”

“Yes, love, he will be fine.”

“Maester is here,” Leeds said and then Maester Wolkan was coming into the room and kneeling next to Jon.

Addam took Lyanna and held her up a few steps away, giving the man room to work. He fumbled here, poked there, then open a very bad-smelling bottle, holding it under Jon’s nose, making him jump up.

“Easy now, my lord,” Maester Wolkan said. “How is your head?”

“Banging. Dany, where’s Dany?” Jon saw them standing there and Addam let Lyanna down. Jon hugged her fiercely. “Little Addam and Aemon?”

“Nursery is secure,” Rellos announced, coming in. “Lord Addam and Lord Aemon are there with their nurses, nothing happened over there, we are having them move into a secure room with enough space. Lady Crystark, Lord Rickard, Lord Willam, Lady Lyarra, and Lady Rhea are also well, we are moving them as well, Lord Crystark is putting the army in alert before he comes over. Lord Tarly went to get Ser Davos as we escort Lady Tarly, Little Sam, and Little Lord Jon to the other room.”

“Rellos! My lord!” Orys said, coming into the room as well, holding a cloth to a long cut on the side of his face.

“What happened to you?”

“Was in the kitchens, my lord, they got to me. Didn’t see who, but Irri screamed, then I was out. Maids are with her, they got to her too, but she said she didn’t recognise the men.”

“Where is Lady Starling?” Jon demanded, standing up.

“What happened here?” Addam asked.

“Not so sure,” Jon said, gladly accepting the pack of ice the maester gave him. “I told Dany I had to go, that Arya was expecting me, that I knew Lya would want to go riding,” he pulled his daughter even closer, “then I got out of bed. There was a knock, it was Doreah.” Jon stopped and frowned, trying to unscramble his thoughts beyond his headache. “Dany called her in and then she went to collect the laundry. I heard her gasp, Dany screamed, and then everything went black. They must have snuck up behind me. I didn’t have my guard up. Wait, where’s Ghost? How did they get past Ghost?” Jon moved to the sitting room, cursed, and rushed to the direwolf’s side. “Come on boy, don’t do this to me!”

Maester Wolkan came and offered the wolf the same bad-smelling bottle. Ghost yelped as if in pain and rolled up to lie on his stomach — his displeased face was nearly comical. Jon breathed out a huge sigh of relief as the Maester corked the bottle and put it away.

“This is too odd,” Rellos said. “They didn’t harm anyone permanently. No guard, the maids in the way, you, my lord. Even Ghost!”

“I agree,” Addam said, “they went to the trouble of giving him a sleeping potion rather than…” he risked a glance at Lyanna. “Well, you get my point.” Everyone nodded.

“The pack,” Jon said. “If they harmed me or Ghost — or anyone in the family — the pack would feel it. Nymeria, Lady, Midnight, and Shaggydog would have sounded the alarm. Hells, even Silver, Grey Wind, and Summer would spread the warning across the Kingdoms. Like that day when I was at the Wall.”

“Perhaps whoever attacked knew about it,” Leeds suggested.

“Jon, this has got to be an inside job,” Addam said regretfully.

“We choose our men with great care,” Rellos said. “Though it has been long enough since any attacks that security might have relaxed despite what we try to keep up,” he admitted unwillingly.

“They knew exactly where and when to move,” Addam said. “They took out Irri and Orys, Daenerys personal guard; they chose a morning you were _sleeping in_ , when we wouldn’t disturb you for a while; they had a sleeping potion for Ghost; they moved through the servant’s passages, which are darker and more maze-like than out in the open. They were either one of our men who turned coat or someone they slipped in to learn the castle’s ways.”

“We haven’t hired anyone for inside the castle in at least six moon turns,” Rellos said.

“We can sort out the details later,” Jon said. “Right now, I want men combing this island inch by inch. I want my wife found!”

“Papa?” came a little voice from the door.

“Hey boy, come here.” Jon knelt down and Little Addam rushed over. “Let’s get you two to the others.”

“But where is Mama?” Lyanna asked.

“We will find her, Lya,” Addam promised. “But we need to be sure all the children are together and safe, so we will focus on finding your Mama and not worry about you.”

Jon pulled both of them to stand in front of him.

“Do you understand what Uncle Addam is saying?” he asked and the children nodded. “I need to find Mama. But if I’m worried that one or both or any of you will sneak out of the nursery, then I won't be able to look for Mama. So I need you to promise me: no sneaking out.”

“I promise, Papa,” Lyanna and Little Addam said together.

“Good,” Jon said with a weak smile. “Auntie Ayla and Gilly will stay with you, you have to do everything they say. And, hey, look at me. You two are the oldest. You have to look out for one another and protect the others. Alright?”

“I promise, Papa!” Little Addam said. “I have my sword with me!” He patted his chest where the buckle for his toy sword was crossing.

“You do that, my boy,” Jon said, ruffling his silver-blond hair. The warning bells began ringing then. “Rellos, get things done. And someone find Patrik and tell him I need my riding gear. I’ll get the children to the safe room and go join the search party.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Doreah stiffened when the warning bells began sounding — they would be coming in search of them now.

“I told you, whore, you were moving too slow!” one of the sellswords, Mero, said.

“And I told you, you don’t know this place like I do,” Doreah snapped back, furious at the insult. “I was put here five years ago exactly for this reason. If we went ahead killing everyone in the way, we would have been caught before you could even take the Princess. They wouldn’t thank you for your failure, would they?”

“Row faster,” Mero yelled. “Is that why would put the dog to sleep instead of slitting his throat? Or is he your pet as well?”

She really didn’t want to hurt Ghost, that much was true, but she couldn’t admit it to the Essosi sellsword. “I told you, these direwolves are magic. They can sense what goes on with one another. They warned people in the island when Lord Starling was wounded all the way at the Wall — if we had hurt Ghost or anyone in the castle, the direwolves would have sounded the alarm immediately. Here, in Winterfell, and in King's Landing.”

“I thought Westerosi didn’t believe in magic,” Kasporio, another sellsword, said.

“The Starks do,” Doreah said. “If you’re so worried about getting caught, you should have done as I said and waited for me to arrange for their ride tomorrow.”

“They’d bring a few guards,” Mero said. “I’ve seen that knight who guards the bastard fight — I’d rather not face him.”

“Oh, are you afraid?” the men jested.

“I once saw him beat five other guards in practice,” Doreah said. “I think he should be afraid.”

“I'm not afraid, idiots,” Mero snapped. “but that fight would take a while and we are in a rush. Row faster, you cunts!” he yelled again, loud enough to be heard in the other two boats.

Doreah rolled her eyes and checked to see if the Princess was still lying comfortably. Their encounter with Orys and Irri flirting in the kitchens had delayed them, making them lose precious moments taking them both out. Then the fight for the boats in the pier had also took longer than Mero had expected. That, combined with the extra weight of the Archmaester the sellsword captain decided to take in a whim for extra bounty, had made the journey longer than they could afford. A lone howl broke through the relative silence of the river, followed quickly by four others.

“Now we’re fucked,” the handmaid said. “They’re warning the rest of the pack. The men from Winterfell are too deep inland, too far to worry us, but we’ll be lucky if we make it past King's Landing without any Royal ships in the way.”

“We were already counting with that,” Kasporio said.

“Their raven will get to the capital before we do,” Mero said. “Our problem is not what we’ll meet in the south, it’s getting off the island.”

Doreah wasn’t comforted.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The Small Council was in session when Silver burst into the room and looked right at Ned, his whole posture exuding anxiety. The Lord felt that prickle in the back of his mind, distant and nearly unreachable — it was in these moments that he wished for the easy connection his children managed to forge.

“My lord?” Lord Manderly asked, the only one in the room who would give the warning any thought.

“It’s… something’s wrong,” Ned said. Then Silver sat on his haunches and howled loudly, a bone-chilling, terrible sound. “It’s a call to arms.” Ned froze for a moment, thinking on the implications. “Something is wrong in the North — Lord Manderly, prepare the ships. I’ll send ravens out.”

“Winterfell or the Blessed Island?” the mermaid lord asked.

“Father!” Sansa burst into the room. “There is something wrong in the Fortress! Someone is there!”

Ned stiffened, knowing she was feeling it through her connection with Lady. Jon, Arya, Benjen, Daenerys, Addam, Ayla, and the children, his mind was a whirlwind.

“I’ll send a raven to White Harbour immediately, my lord. Lord Wylis, my son, will send relief ships before we can get there. Then I’ll personally oversee the preparation of the Royal fleet.”

“Sansa, get back to the Tower and tell your stepmother, Silver to her,” Ned said, knowing the hawks could get there in half the time. The girl seemed to want to object, but the direwolf poked her with his snout until she relented and allowed the guards to escort her out. “Lord Manderly, I want a blockade of the Narrow Sea made, nothing passes further south than us, not until we have word from Lord Starling.”

“If we get too close to the Essosi coast, we will cause a political accident, Lord Stark, not to mention that we don’t have the naval power to stretch that far on such short notice.” Willas said, standing up, his brows furrowed. “My cousin, my Redwyne cousin, is in town making a delivery from the Arbor. We met for supper last night and he said he is leaving in a couple of days to make a next delivery in Tyrosh. The Stepstones are a narrower path, so if Lord Manderly can have a few ships to spare, with the rest of the Redwyne escort we should be able to put up a proper blockade.”

“It’s a good idea, Lord Willas, thank you,” Ned said. “Ask your cousin to come meet me in my solar, I'm afraid I must go now, I have ravens to send.”

A ragged little boy came into the room, cuts and bruises all over, a huge blood stain on his shirt. He went straight to Varys.

“Sorry, master,” he said in a weak and battered voice. “I ran, but they had horses.”

“Shhhh, easy now, my little bird,” Varys said, supporting the boy and taking the message he carried quickly enough for the others not to see it.

“Grand Maester, do something!” Ned exclaimed. He was worried now. The little birds were invisible, unless they had a message for you, then they popped up in front of you, delivered said message, and disappeared just as swiftly. They delivered their secrets to Varys and Varys alone. One had never dared to walk inside the council chambers, especially not with the Small Council in session. What urgent message did he carry?

“Do… but… do…”

“Grand Maester! The boy needs help! Help him!”

“I… I will need my equipment, of course, my potions and herbs and—”

Ned rolled his eyes and crossed the room, keeling by the boy. Jory brought a handful of napkins and they wrapped it around the boy’s arm, though it looked like the blood wouldn’t be stopped so easily. Then Ned nodded and Jory lifted the boy from the ground.

“You’re safe now, my little bird,” Varys said, patting the boy’s head. Then he slipped the little square of parchment into Ned’s hand. “I’ll tell my other boys to bring me songs from the North, Lord Stark. Thank you for your kindness.”

Ned nodded stiffly. This day was amounting to be one great big tragedy. They walked quickly to the Tower of the Hand and Ned sent Maester Byren to help the boy as he rushed up to his wife’s solar. Ella was halfway through her letter when he walked in.

“Whose blood—” she started, panicking.

“One of Varys’ little birds walked into the Council chambers, I brought him to Maester Byren because Pycelle is too important to care for a lowborn boy,” he spoke through his teeth, furious, as he opened the message. “Seven hells!” he cursed.

“What is it?” Ella stood from the chair and went to him.

“Cersei is coming!” Ned exclaimed, beginning to pace. “Others take her! What in the name of the gods is she coming here for?”

“Tommen and Myrcella,” Ella said. “But if she waited this long and is coming now it’s because something has changed.”

“They can’t… why would she leave Casterly Rock as they attacked the Blessed Island?”

“I don’t know, Ned. We don’t even know _what_ is happening up there, only that something is. I’ll send my brother a letter, but hopefully he’ll have one of his own already on the way.”

Ned paced for long moments.

“Finish the letter to your brother, then send a raven, just for appearances, to Jon. And a raven to Robb, though Grey Wind and Summer will have sounded the alarm in Winterfell as well. Tell him to send a legion to White Harbour now, so they’ll be underway when Jon’s raven arrives, but to be prepared to send more men. That island will keep on standing!”

“Of course it will. Even if they were caught by surprise, Jon has thirty thousand men up there, plus the navy, and the coastal defences are very good. What are you going to do?”

“The wicked Queen is coming back, I must inform the King.” Ned snorted. “Is it evil of me to wish that wheelhouse of hers falls on top of her and crushes her to death?”

Ella chuckled. “Go tell the whoremonger King his ‘beloved’ wife is coming. I’ll handle the messages while I think up ways to make her melt into a puddle of arrogance. Good luck.”

“I need patience, not luck,” Ned muttered as he left the room.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon burst into the Audience Hall in all of his riding gear, his temper growing worse with each moment Dany was missing.

“Our coastal defences are attacking three escaping ships,” Ser Davos informed. “We have two ships chasing them and I sent word to have the fleet prepared and supplied to leave if need be.”

“And I told the men to prepare for a fight at any moment,” Benjen said.

“Is Lady Starling in any of these escaping ships?” Jon asked, pacing.

“We don’t know,” Davos said.

“But she is not in the castle, nor has any of our watch posts downriver reported seeing her in a boat downriver to Sunstone,” Rellos said.

“They wouldn’t have taken her to Sunstone, they know that even with a head start, they wouldn’t be able to make it there — it’s a three-hour trip. We would have noticed she had been taken and sent a raven before they had made it to the harbour. And then they wouldn’t be able to make it off the island,” Addam said.

“They wouldn’t have come here without an escape plan in place,” Benjen said, looking at the map of the Blessed Island spread in front of him.

“How did they get here?” Jon asked. “How did they manage to move around the castle in the middle of the day without being seen?”

“This won't help us now, Jon,” Sam said.

“They kidnapped my wife!” Jon roared in fury.

“What?” Arya asked, coming in with Gendry.

“Thank the gods!” both Jon and Benjen said. The first was too worried and skittish, but the latter pulled her into a hug.

“Was there a problem in the forge, Gendry?” Sam asked. “Was anyone there?”

“No, my lord. But once the warning bells started ringing, I thought I would bring Lady Arya straight to you. I’ll be going now.”

“What were you doing in the forge, Arya?” Jon asked, stopping mid-lap.

“Gendry is an old friend,” she answered easily, though the smith blushed deeply, uncomfortable. “But wait, someone took Dany?”

“I'm going out there,” Jon said. “I can’t just stay here locked up.”

“We’ve had this argument, Jon,” Addam said.

Jon huffed and restarted his pacing.

“Davos, where else could a large ship take passengers from?” Benjen asked. “Because Addam is right, they won’t have gone to Sunstone.”

“Well, I believe South Point would be a good spot,” the knight answered, joining him by the map. “There was even a smuggling problem a bit over a year ago, not that I can judge any smugglers, but we smothered it and built up a fort. It’s been leased to a knight and we have a constant garrison there. They would be seen.”

“And there are no rivers connecting the lake to South Point,” Addam pointed out. “It would take over a day on horseback, even at a hard pace. They wouldn’t take the risk.”

“If I can meddle, my lords,” Gendry said. “But there was talk in the village about how the delivery of salt from the ponds in Loporio is late. It should have come yesterday, but it still hasn’t arrived. The river connects there, it’s how the salt gets to the harbour to be sold in the continent.”

“He’s got a point, my lord,” Rellos said. “The guards were attacked in the pier and the kidnappers took three boats. They must have gone down a river or it makes no sense to risk taking the boats in the first place.”

“It’s two hours downriver to Loporio,” Davos said, “so they probably already made it there. But they’ll need go a bit north to circumvent a peninsula. We can try and catch up even if the trip to Sunstone is longer.”

Jon pulled on the ends of his hair. He looked like a wolf about pounce, giving off a manic energy.

“Patrik,” he called and the servant rushed forward, “pack a satchel; Davos, send word to Sunstone, I want twenty warships fully stocked and manned to go as soon as we can make the trip downriver; Rellos, I want Leeds, Orys, and Wex with me, as well as twelve others — make sure you pick accordingly to the best needs of the castle; Addam, I need you to write a message to Ella; Sam, send a message to Robb and tell Winterfell what happened and that I'm leaving the island; Uncle Benjen, can I leave my home and my children—”

“Of course you can,” Benjen said. “You don’t even need to ask.”

“I’ll go say good-bye to the children,” Jon said and his face showed how much he dreaded it. “Then once I'm back, I want Winterstorm saddled and ready to go.”

“Jon, the ships won’t be ready…” Addam started.

“They’ll have around four hours, that’s as much time as we can spare. They have hours ahead of us already!”

“And you heard Davos,” Benjen cut in, “they’ll have to go around the peninsula and—”

“We — don’t — have — time — to — spare,” Jon spoke through his teeth. “Give the order!”

“I am—” Arya started, but Jon cut her off.

“You are not coming, don’t even try! I don’t know where we’re going or after whom we’re going. You’re staying right here!”

“I can handle myself with a sword!”

“Against one opponent, yes you can!” Jon said, surprising her. “That is not the point. If Bran were here I would tell him to shut up and go upstairs. This has nothing to do with you being a girl — perhaps you remember who gave you the sword in the first place. It has to do with you being my sister and I am not allowing you to put yourself at risk!”

Arya glowered, but Gendry knew all too well she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he cleared his throat.

“I would like to volunteer to join you, my lord. A blacksmith is always useful and if I might point out, Ser Addam lost his sword beyond the Wall and needed to borrow one due to the lack of a blacksmith.” He knew he was giving a half-baked reason: beyond the Wall, no blacksmith would have been able to make any kind of blade without building at least a make-shift forge.

“Our war ships do have a small forge,” Sam said, “and Gendry is our master of weapons.”

“Very well, pack what you think you’ll need, Gendry, and be ready by the time we are,” Jon said and then left the room in a hurry.

Arya turned to Gendry with a raised eyebrow, but he only shrugged and left, making her bite back her smile. So he _had_ understood what she was going to do. She turned to Nymeria and whispered ‘Hot Pie’ before leaving the room as quietly as she could — the last thing she needed was Uncle Benjen or Uncle Addam deciding to watch her.

As the others went to follow their orders, Addam pulled Benjen aside.

“He shouldn’t be coming in this rescue,” the knight whispered. “There is just too much at stake here. And I'm not talking about the island or the children, you know that.”

“I do,” Benjen said. “And if I thought telling him that would make him stay, I would finally say screw my brother. But it wouldn’t. You know that.”

“I do, I do.” Addam exhaled. “If he won't stay for the children, then nothing will keep him here.”

“It’s his wife. He wouldn’t be Jon if he didn’t go after her without care for his safety. Telling him now would only destabilise him, make his whole world turn on its axis, and make him waste precious time to come to terms with it. And he won’t thank us for it.”

“I have interesting news,” Tyrion said, rushing into the room.

“What now?” Benjen nearly groaned.

“Cersei is on her way to King's Landing. She has a huge entourage around her and my father is ‘inspecting the fleet in Lannisport’.”

“So they are on the move to surround the capital,” Addam said. Then he frowned. “Would they have enough to move on both? I mean, to move against the Iron Throne _and_ take Daenerys?”

“If my father really has made a deal with the Iron Bank, as we suspect, they might have enough funds, but I think that would have been a bold move even for him. He would have made sure his army was at least in the Riverlands before making the move against Daenerys, or he would have waited until Winterfell called the banners and Jon took his men south, leaving the island more vulnerable. But then again, Cersei once tried to implant her web of spies here, however pitiful it was.”

“While I do agree that Cersei has been weirdly silent since Joffrey’s death,” Benjen said, “I am sure Tywin would have kept her on a leash. She wouldn’t have waited two years to make a move. If it’s anything, it’s coming from Tywin.”

“I know my sister,” Tyrion said. “She wouldn’t have waited two days, let alone two years. If she did wait, it is because my father promised her something better.”

“I agree,” Addam said and exhaled heavily. “What about Jaime?”

“He’s in Dragonstone,” Benjen said.

“And we have discussed trying to lure him to our side,” the knight said.

“Jaime has been away from Cersei long enough that I might be able to convince him to not fall for their schemes,” the dwarf said, then looked seriously at the other two, the only ones left in the room aside from himself and Bronn. “We have discussed the possibility of a restoration. We know Lady Starling has been looking favourably to the prospect and Lord Starling’s resistance to it is the danger and risks it presents. I do think I can get Jaime on our side, on the right side. However, if he won't do it for Rhaella’s daughter, he _will_ do it for Rhaegar’s son.”

Both Benjen and Addam stiffened.

“Prince Aegon had his skull bashed in by Gregor—” Addam started.

“Don’t try to play me as a fool, Ser _Arthur_ ,” Tyrion said. “I’ve had long enough here to suppose and conjecture. Though I must admit that if Jon didn’t feel the dragon eggs ‘kind of warm’ while the rest of us feel nothing but cold and dead stone, I might never have made the connection. Of course, my first deduction was your identity. After hearing Jaime speak about you and your sword skills so much, I doubt I wouldn’t be able to recognise you fighting in the yard. You might also have noticed that I have not betrayed the secret. And I am attempting to help you against my father and sister.”

“Why would we believe that you would prefer the, as you put it, right side over your own family?” Benjen asked.

“Because I grew up watching my father and Cersei in their caprices, I have seen the people and the place around them. They care for nothing but power and money. _Their_ power and _their_ money. And I have seen how they would treat their own flesh and blood in the name of their ‘legacy’. At the same time, I have seen how the Starks and Starlings treat their home, their people, and their family. Reports from King's Landing tell me how the people’s lives improved ever since Lord Stark became Hand and stopped smothering the smallfolk. While, at the same time, he managed to stop increasing and begin reverting the Crown’s debt. What means, simple mathematics can deduce, that the city and the smallfolk can prosper while still allowing the lords to indulge, as long as there is rhyme and reason, while there is limit to the indulgence. I would support the Targaryens because I have seen them and I know they would govern for the realm, for the lords and the smallfolk and not only for House Targaryen. Cersei would blow up Flea’s Bottom in a whim if she was bored, if she thought it suddenly began smelling too badly, with no regard for anyone living there. That is not the kind of ruler our realm needs or even deserves.”

“We need Jaime on our side,” Addam said after a moment of contemplation. “We don’t know when we are coming back and, if Tywin is making a move, we can’t be sure we’ll be here to join the fight. One of the reasons there were not more Lannister sympathisers crying out for Joffrey was because even Jaime rose against him — even if he would have been his champion. But Jaime defended Sansa, so that showed people there was no way to save Joffrey from the trial. The best way to weaken the Lannisters and avoid a huge bloodbath is to have Jaime against Tywin.”

“It’s too dangerous!” Benjen said. “We can’t start spreading—”

“I won’t tell him _who_ it is,” Tyrion said. “But if I tell him that Rhaegar left a son, that Ser Arthur Dayne is alive, then he _will_ choose our side. As long as the children are safe.”

“Of course the children will be safe! But Jaime is not stupid, I'm certain,” Benjen said. “You have been living here for years and suddenly you come up with the absurdity that there is a lost son of Rhaegar Targaryen still alive and a long-lost knight is alive. He will put two and two together and then Jon and the children will be in danger.”

“All due respect, Lord Crystark, but you don’t know my brother as I do. You can’t begin to understand how deeply he feels that he failed Rhaegar’s last command.”

“You mean how he was too busy killing the Mad King to interfere with the slaughter happening upstairs?” Benjen sneered.

“I always thought Jaime was too stupid keeping it for himself,” Tyrion snorted. “Everybody reviles him and no one has any idea what he did. Your precious brother is only alive because of Jaime, because he took it upon himself to do what Rhaegar had hesitated to do for years.”

“He was a Kingsguard and he killed the King!” Benjen insisted.

“Because the King commanded his pyromancer Hand to blow up the city!” Tyrion exclaimed, shocking the other two. “The Mad King had the Guild of Alchemists produce enough wildfire to put caches and caches all underneath King's Landing. Beneath the Red Keep, the Sept of Baelor, every major thoroughfare. If he was going down, he would take the rebels with him.”

“That can’t be true,” Benjen stuttered.

“You don’t seem very surprised, Addam,” Tyrion pointed out. “Jaime was alone with the Mad King for weeks in the Red Keep. Rhaegar had fallen twelve days before, my father was already near the gates. All Jaime had to do was slit Aerys’ throat in the middle of the night and ride out to meet the Lannister host and everything would be fine. But he didn’t. It was only when word came that the Sack was taking place that the Mad King told the pyromancer to blow up the city. So Jaime killed him and then Aerys. He wasn’t in Maegor’s Holdfast protecting Princess Elia and the children because he was chasing down the other pyromancers, to stop them.”

“That can’t… it can’t be true,” Benjen said, still flabbergasted.

“Yes, it can,” Addam said, sorrowful. He sighed. “It’s exactly the kind of thing the Mad King would do. He would burn down the world before he let the rebels win.” He took a deep breath. “I have to write to my sister. And I should probably give you a note to convince Jaime. Work your magic, Lord Tyrion, but get Jaime on our side.” He then burst out of the room. He didn’t doubt one word the dwarf had said, but that didn’t make it any less terrible to hear.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Daenerys woke up confused and groggy, trying to make sense of the place around her. She was moving, up and down, bobbing. I'm in a ship, she thought, her confusion growing. She didn’t remember going on a ship, though. She blinked her eyes open and frowned: this was not the Lady Daenerys, the Lady Lyanna, nor any of the ships they owned. Though, in retrospect, she was quite sure she hadn’t visited every single ship in their fleet. But they weren’t leaving on a voyage. She had been in her chambers, hadn’t she? She and Jon had slept in and he had just gotten up and… she saw movement and turned._

_“Mother,” Dany whispered._

_“My beautiful daughter!” Rhaella said, tears in her eyes, coming closer and cupping her daughter’s face in both hands. “I held you but once, but I want you to know how much I love you, my beautiful girl!”_

_“Mother, I… I missed you! So much!”_

_“I know, my love. We don’t have long, every mile away from the volcano means the magic is weaker.”_

_“The volcano?” Dany asked._

_“We are dragons, my beloved. The old Valyrians found a way to bind the magic of dragons into us, into our blood. That is why we are magic. We draw strength from the fires of the earth. You must remember that, Dany: fire thrives in fire.”_

_She frowned. “I… Rhaegar told me the same. Years ago, in another dream.”_

_“I know,” Rhaella said with a smile. “But I couldn’t help but wanting to meet you at least once. You must keep this in mind, Dany. This and the rest of what Rhaegar said. Be strong, Dany. Your future is not easy, but I know you can remain strong.”_

_“They will attack us, won't they?” Dany asked. “They will come to kill me. Me and my children, to finally extinguish the Targaryen line.”_

_“Your attacker has no idea about the strength of a mother, Dany. No idea about what a mother will do to protect her children. However much I regret this failure. But I know you will triumph. I was not there to love and raise you, but you had an amazing father, a great example of honour and family.” Rhaella put her hand on Dany’s face and looked right into her eyes. “I wish I could spare you this pain.”_

_“What pain?” Dany asked in a trembling voice._

_“Your great-uncle Aemon likes to say that ‘love is the bane of honour and the death of duty’. I disagree. He also says that—”_

_“‘We are only human and the gods have fashioned us for love’,” Dany finished. “He said so to Jon when we went to the Wall.”_

_“He is wrong in this, Dany. Love is no tragedy. Love is strength. Even if it is lost, it is where you draw your strength, your will to go on from. This is our great glory.” Rhaella smiled sadly. “I am so proud of you, Dany. So proud.”_

_With a last smile, the former queen vanished into thin air._

“Mother!” Dany exclaimed, sitting up in bed, realising she was just coming out of her dream. She was in the exact same room she was in while dreaming with her mother, but with one slight difference: rather than a beautiful and kind Valyrian woman, she had the company of a brute of a man, scarred, with green eyes, and a bushy red-gold beard.

“Well, well,” he said. “The Princess is finally awake.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this one! I've added the updated map of the Blessed Island just above so you can understand better what is where. As always, I can't wait to hear (or read) your thoughts in the comments :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon must say goodbye to his children while Sarella brings good information to the rescue group. In King's Landing, Varys meddles in correspondence while, in Braavos, Jon makes a dangerous deal.

Saying goodbye to his children had been one of the hardest things Jon had ever done. Lyanna and Little Addam, four and three years old, could bat their eyes, say ‘please, Papa’, make nearly irresistible puppy dog eyes. Aemon, only nearing his first name day, could do little more than lie there on his cradle, with his dimpled smile and cute face, his wavy silver-golden hair and purple eyes shining.

“But Papa, why we can't go with you?” Little Addam asked.

“Papa will have to go far away to find Mama,” Jon said, Aemon now in his arms as they all sat in the thick fur in front of the fireplace.

“But I can ride, Papa,” Lyanna said. “I can go on Snow and follow you and Winterstorm! And Little Addam come with me!”

“I promise to hold on to Lya safe, Papa!”

Jon smiled sadly, his eyes filled with tears, wanting nothing more than to bring them. But he couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t. He had no idea where his search for Daenerys would lead them and who they would meet on the way. The children would, obviously, remain in the Midnight Fortress in safety.

“I’m sorry, my children, but you have to stay. Papa can't help Mama and protect you at the same time. Besides, Uncle Benjen will rule in Papa’s name, but we need a Starling here to care for the Fortress, don’t we?”

They kept on complaining, on insisting, Jon didn’t even know for how long. All he knew was that every ‘please, Papa’, broke his heart in a few more pieces. Finally, what seemed like hours later, Addam came inside the playroom.

“The first boat is already on its way downriver, it’s time to go.”

With a heavy heart, Jon kissed each one of the three. When he stood up, Lyanna and Little Addam grabbed onto his legs. He sighed.

“Be safe,” Ayla said, hugging him tightly. “Bring her home, but come back in one piece if you would.”

He gave another half-smile. “I will try my best, Aunt. I promise.”

In the spirit of saying his own good-byes, Addam managed to detach the children from Jon’s legs.

“You, little one, have to protect your siblings now. Are you up to the task?”

His face swollen and eyes red, Little Addam nodded as he sniffled. “Aye, Uncle. I have my sword with me all the time.”

“You do that,” Addam said. “You practice every day and one day you will be a knight like your father. And you, little lady,” he turned to Lyanna, “you have to practice riding. Snow needs company always.”

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him very seriously. “What if I want a sword too?”

“Well, then, since Papa and Uncle Addam won’t be here,” Jon said with a fond smile, “we’ll need Uncle Benjen to make you one and you can ask Aunt Arya to teach you. And your brother can help.”

“Alright,” Lyanna shrugged, using one hand to play with the lilac velvet of her skirt. “I play with Aunt Arya. She says she takes me to see the woods. Me and Snow.”

Jon widened his eyes, but Ayla patted his forearm. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” she said and he exhaled in relief. With a last kiss to each of them, he managed to wrangle himself away, promising to bring Mama home.

“I’ve sent the letter to my sister,” Addam said on their way down. “I'm sure she is sending one now, since Silver must have raised the alarm. It’ll reach us at sea.”

“Whatever delivers it can actually track you?” Jon asked. “Because I thought ravens were trained to fly back and forth specific castles.”

“We don’t use ravens,” Addam said. “And don’t ask me how or even what magic it is, because I honestly don’t know. All I know is that each one is ‘attached’ to one of us, kind of bonded like you and Ghost, though not exactly. I can't see through their eyes or even have dreams and so on, but they can find who I tell them to find and then they find me in return. I don’t know the details.”

“Well, it’s good enough,” Jon said. “At least we’ll be able to communicate wherever we are, since ravens will be few, if any.”

When they got to the courtyard, where the horses were waiting, they were faced with a very furious and very determined Dornish girl.

“They’ve taken the Archmaester,” Sarella said, her shoulder-long curly hair pulled back on its usual ponytail, though she had abandoned the pretence and her usual acolyte robes were gone in favour of a full riding gear, her identity as a girl revealed — though now that she wasn’t hiding her curves, not many people would ever think she could pose as a boy. If one didn’t know she had spent her past few years posing as a boy to study to become a maester, then one would judge her a completely different person.

“Were you hurt?” Addam asked and she snorted.

“They tried to. Obviously, because I was with the Archmaester, I only had one dagger, so it was only when I took the first one out that I managed to get a sword. I told the guards there were a couple bodies to clean up. But anyway, they’ve taken the Archmaester, so I’m coming with you.”

“But you’re a girl!” Wex said.

“Woman,” Sarella said, rolling her eyes. “And you’re a man. What’s your point?”

“The point is: are you sure?” Addam asked.

“You’d better not be asking me if I’m scared.”

He chuckled. “I know better. Why did you change clothes?” he asked quietly, not wanting to ask openly in case she thought to return to her disguise.

“Because there are no private cabins to spare in a full warship, I’m sure, and this seemed easier than a funny discovery along the way. Shouldn’t we be going? Where are we starting anyway?”

“We’ll try and intercept their ship, as we believe they are leaving from Loporio, across the island,” Jon said as they mounted. “Are you sure your father—”

“I’ve sent him a raven,” Sarella said, “not that he has any say on the matter. I'm going and he can’t stop me. I wish you wouldn’t waste time trying.” Jon looked at Addam, who only shook his head, so he shrugged, deciding to let it go. “Anyway,” the young woman continued, “if we can’t intercept them, I think we should start with Braavos.”

“Why?” Jon asked.

“Because the men who took the Archmaester were not speaking the Common Tongue, they were speaking low Valyrian, which is a language of most of Essos. Well, there are variants, but I can’t tell them apart, especially not from the snippets of conversation I heard. Also, I checked the bodies, and they have tattoos for a sellsword company — I can draw it and we can try and find out, but the drawing is familiar somehow, I just need to think harder.”

“If they’re heading to Essos it is even smarter that they are leaving from Loporio,” Davos said. “They assumed we’d look into Westerosi foes all the while they’re heading across the Narrow Sea.”

“But who in Essos would try and take Lady Starling?” Jon asked. “Our enemies are here, in Westeros!”

“Yes,” Addam agreed, “which is why having her kept in Essos for a while might be smarter. If it is the Lannisters, they would want her safe until they had the capital in hand.”

“But why wouldn’t…” Jon took a deep breath. “Tyrion said Tywin likes things done and not a spectacle. Why would he bother taking Daenerys and keeping her elsewhere?”

“Because there is time and place for theatre, Jon,” Addam said. “And Tywin knows how to play the game perfectly. If the Lannisters are to get control of the Iron Throne they don’t need to simply kill Robert: they need to get your father and Daenerys out of the way. They do it wrong, then the Kingdoms turn against them and might even call for a restoration without any battles. But if they do it right, they can pin Robert’s murder on your father because he rose in support of Daenerys.”

“But that would be a lie!” Jon exclaimed.

“History is told by whoever wins,” Addam said. “Why do you think everyone still believes Rhaegar is a madman who kidnapped and raped maidens?” He kicked his horse into a canter, rushing down the paved road of the village towards the pier.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_My fellow brothers,_

_I write to inform you of a most stunning development. We have known for years that there are direwolves south of the Wall once more and they serve the Starks. However, we had never before had cause to suspect that the rumours of that frightening warging magic were true. But they are and I have seen it with my own eyes._

_After Lord Stark brought his pet wolf into the Red Keep, I have been watching from afar and noticed that the beast follows its master constantly, but I believed it to be nothing more than a guard dog. Today, as the Small Council convened, the direwolf burst into the room and, through whatever dark magic they use, communicated with Lord Stark a “call to arms”. A moment later, Lady Sansa came and, very surprisingly, declared there to be attackers in the Midnight Fortress. I already knew the other direwolves had remained in the North, but it seems Lady Sansa’s wolf is in the Blessed Island and they could communicate. She was able to get a message or I do not know, but there is magic at play here._

_I find this most troubling news. Can we trust this? Lord Stark is taking action already, having the Royal fleet prepared to go out to aid Lord Starling, but who can assure us that there is indeed a threat? Moreover, the way Lord Stark acted, as if it was such a natural thing, makes me believe it was not the first time the direwolves communicated across the Kingdoms, so it begs the question: why have the maesters from Winterfell and the Midnight Fortress not reported it yet?_

_I shall continue to watch Lord Stark and his wolf, to try and discover anything else. Meanwhile, I hope our brothers in the North have more information for us, a way to explain this magical and most unwelcome development._

_Kind regards,_

_Grand Maester Pycelle_

 

The elderly man coughed exaggeratedly as he sealed the letter, passing it to the messenger with shaky hands. “You guard it with your life, Ser!” Pycelle commanded. “Deliver it into the Seneschal’s hands and no one else’s!”

“Of course, Grand Maester,” Ser Simon said. “I will leave in the morning and this letter will reach the right hands, you have my word!”

Pycelle nodded and dismissed the knight, worried about this new development. He and the Order had worked so hard to erase every last trace of magic! The death of the dragons had been their greatest achievement, certainly. And in retrospect, why had no one ever wondered why, as soon as the last dragon died in the Dragonpit, the direwolves disappeared from Westeros? Perhaps it was magic that sustained both creatures and without the counterbalance to the south, the magic in the north had to go. But this was beyond troubling: if the direwolves were back, if the magic to the north was back, did that mean that the magic to the south, the dragons, were coming back as well?

Pycelle shivered, positively scared. Magic didn’t belong in Westeros. And he would help make sure it didn’t return.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ser Simon, slippery, wise, and ambitious, knew how to recognise true power in a castle. After the mess with Prince Joffrey, it was beyond obvious to everyone in Court that, while Robert Baratheon might be the _de jure_ king, Lord Eddard Stark was their _de facto_ ruler. Also, anyone who could count could see that Starks were collecting allies while the Lannisters were collecting enemies.

As such, it was safer and much more lucrative to help Lord Stark than anyone else. And, for years now, Lord Varys was working closely with Lord Stark. Therefore, when someone had a secret from the castle, it was so much more sensible to deliver it to Lord Varys than to the intended addressee. That one would only receive his letter if the Spider believed it necessary.

Therefore, even though he had received orders and gold from the Grand Maester, Ser Simon snuck around the servant’s passages and went to Lord Varys’ chambers, looking for more gold, of course, but also for favour.

“Grand Maester wants it delivered in the hands of the Seneschal and no one else. Told me to guard it with my life,” Simon reported after giving the letter away.

Varys opened it and skimmed through — it had taken him mere months to decode the secret language from the Citadel. Then he smiled.

“Yes, yes, I can see why the Grand Maester would want that.” He reached into a drawer in his desk and withdrew a sizeable bag of gold. “For your trouble.”

“What about the letter? Don’t I have to deliver it? The Grand Maester can't know about this!”

Varys pursed his lips, thinking. After their discovery of the maester’s conspiracy, it would have made no sense for Pycelle not to have warned the Seneschal. This was no mere rumour, the magic had been out in the open for the whole Small Council to see.

“Spread the gossip you’re leaving by the order of the Grand Maester and take the long way to Oldtown,” Varys said. “You have enough gold to afford a few extra nights in the inns along the road.”

The knight nodded and collected the letter after Varys had resealed it. Well, the easiest thing would have been to burn the letter and have the man on his way. But the knight had a point, so he would need to at least be seen leaving with his cargo. But he couldn’t be allowed to reach the Seneschal. He needed the Citadel spies to get wind of the knight on the way, but Varys couldn’t allow the letter to reach the Seneschal. Otherwise, the maesters of Winterfell and the Midnight Fortress would be in trouble, likely replaced with verifiably loyal ones, and the Citadel would order the assassination of the direwolves. Varys had no big love for pets, but, as Silver had proved more than once, they were very useful. Well then, there was an answer to his problem. One Ser Simon would certainly not enjoy.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Willas stood by the cradle, watching his son squirm and smile at him. He was still so small that the inexperienced father was wary of picking him up without his lady wife around.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Wynafryd murmured, coming behind him.

“So do I,” Willas returned just as quietly. “But I must.”

“You are the Master of Coin,” she whined. “Your place is here, in the Small Council, not in a ship setting a trap!”

Willas exhaled. “Hobber is… difficult. He might think he is in charge, because Uncle Paxter wanted to instil some responsibility on him, but there is only so much damage he could do when the crew is so used to making these deliveries. This mission now… it might mean Lady Starling’s life, so I cannot leave it in unsteady hands. The Redwyne fleet, even the small portion here, is the answer we need to have enough ships to stand against this threat when the Lannisters are moving this way and, since it was my idea, I must see it through.”

“I know.” Wynafryd sighed. “I know everything, but that doesn’t mean I like it any better.”

Willas chuckled as he passed his arms around his wife to draw her into a hug. Their marriage was comfortable, though he couldn’t claim to have any great passionate love for her. But she was smart, keen, interested, witty, kind, and loving, and every day they built a stronger relationship.

“I know your grandfather will keep you safe, so I leave with a heavy heart because I shall miss you and our son, but not with any big worry about your safety,” he said and she smiled softly. “But the fact remains that Cersei Lannister is on her way to the capital and the gods only know what havoc she intends to wreck upon the city. You know where the gold is: if you need it, don’t hesitate to use as much as necessary to get you, our son, and whoever you need to Highgarden. You will be safe there.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ll be vigilant. At the first sign of trouble, I will leave. I promise.”

Lucas gurgled in the cradle and the parents turned to look at him, enjoying their last few moments together.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Obviously, Arya had known from the beginning that she wouldn’t be able to hide forever, but she was expecting to be far enough away that she would be able to convince Jon to keep going rather than waste precious time coming back to drop her and then return to the chase. She also wasn’t worried about hiding until they were past King's Landing: the capital was deep into the Blackwater Bay, so it would take over a week to turn inside, get there, drop her off, and return to their original path down the Narrow Sea.

All the direwolves had joined the group sailing downriver, so Nymeria’s presence didn’t raise any red flags. Hot Pie managed, thankfully, to smuggle Arya into one of the food crates. Gendry, making clear his opinion that it was a very bad plan, promised to make sure it would be put in the back, but easily accessible, and to come and let her out as soon as they were far enough out at sea. She would probably need to hide in the hold for several days, but Hot Pie had supplied them with enough pies and cobblers to make Arya not go mad while locked up. Also, Nymeria would be hiding with her: if Jon or Addam saw her direwolf companion aboard, they would know she was there as well.

Everything went perfectly and Arya expected to be at least as far as the Vale before she was discovered. It was each day harder to be confined, but she kept her eye on her goal, and it helped to have Nymeria with her and Gendry visiting whenever he could. They were still a day before reaching Braavos when her cover was blown. Her warning was Nymeria whimpering and shrinking next to her as they hid inside the box — people were still getting food for breakfast so it wasn’t safe to stretch her legs yet. Then Arya heard booted footsteps and cursed mentally, holding her breath as they came closer. But then they stopped. Next thing she knew, the lid of her box was pulled opened and Jon’s furious face was looking down to her.

“You are unbelievable!” he exclaimed. “Get out of there!”

Sighing in annoyance, Arya stood and jumped out of the box, opening the other side of the lid so Nymeria could do the same. Jon was beyond furious and his face was stormy, his grey eyes dark with just a hint of… no, it couldn’t be indigo in there, it was certainly the poor lighting. Ghost was sitting next to him, his red eyes very censoring. Addam, however, had a hilarious mix of amusement and reproach.

“What were you bloody thinking!” Jon asked. “I thought I told you that you were _not_ coming!”

“Well, I wanted to. So I decided I wouldn’t let you stop me!” she snapped back.

 _Damned wolfsblood_ , Addam thought, seeing the explosion about to take place. Arya was too much like her aunt had been: wild, irreverent, wilful, and stubborn. Jon had inherited the stubbornness from both his parents, as well as learnt Ned’s, and that, together with his temper, was always a volatile combination.

“This is not some ride around the woods, Arya!” Jon went on. “This is a rescue mission and might as well grow into a full damn war! You have no place in a battle!”

“Says the man who gave me a bloody sword!”

“So you could learn something you wanted and learn to defend yourself!” Jon threw back. “Not so you could participate in a bloody battle at fourteen!”

“Almost fifteen! And Syrio said I'm ready!”

“Fuck Syrio!” Jon yelled, completely out of control, his eyes wild. “I’m not having you anywhere near danger! The moment we get to Braavos I’m sending you back and I'm telling Uncle Benjen to send you to Robb. It’ll be harder to escape Winterfell.”

“We grew up learning every secret passage in and out of Winterfell,” Arya said, defiant, “you can’t lock me up. Robb can’t, Uncle Benjen can't, and quite honestly, I think not even Father can!”

“Alright, alright,” Addam stepped in. “Let’s clear the room, shall we?” he told the other sailors and guards watching. “Ghost and Nymeria, you two have the door, please.” Both direwolves stood from their places and herded the others out. “Look, let’s keep this down. Arya: you’re wrong and you know it. Jon, buying passage in a merchant ship in Braavos might be just as dangerous — you don’t know the captain or the men.”

“And it’s not like you can be sure that I will stay on board like a good little girl,” Arya said mockingly.

“Arya, you’re not helping!” Addam said.

“Keep on tempting me and I will go through the healer’s cabinets and find something to knock you out until you’re safely with family!” Jon snapped.

“And now you’re thinking like a tyrant,” Addam cut in. “This is not the way to deal with the stubborn women of your family,” he added pointedly.

“Oh, you mean Aunt Lyanna?” Arya said, shocking the other two. “Father said I look like her. Oh, don’t worry,” she chuckled at their astonishment, “I like to listen behind walls and Father sometimes slips and calls her ‘Ashara’. It was easy to make the connection after that, Uncle _Arthur_.”

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t claim to be very surprised.

“Well, that actually makes my point. Your grandfather learnt the hard way that wild she-wolves don’t like going where they don’t want to go. So you need to decide if you will trust her safety to strangers, go back to drop her off, or let her stay with us. I know, I know,” he went on when he saw Jon preparing to say something, “I don’t like it and I don’t like that she could be in danger. But here at least we know where she is and what she is doing.”

Jon snorted and stomped out of the room, his fury radiating out of him in waves.

“Thanks for the support,” Arya said, smiling.

“Don’t think this will make your life any easier,” Addam warned, pointing at finger a her. “The first rule of being a soldier is learning to follow orders. Even if you are a wild she-wolf of Winterfell.” She lowered her head, slightly abashed. “Now come on, you’ve been in a box for days, you need a proper clean up.” He snorted. “Gods helps us, but there are no cabins to spare, so it seems we’ll have two wilful girls who like to bend the rules sharing the same space.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon looked around, admiring the winding canals that took the place of streets, watching the city burst with activity. Braavos was different than anywhere else he had been to, not that he could claim to have travelled a lot.

Arya was clearly bored, but it seemed that even Nymeria was ‘against’ her, for the direwolf had already stopped her from sneaking away twice. Ghost was walking between the siblings and Addam took Jon’s other side, one step behind to make sure no one would attack them from their backs. They were combing the harbour for information, but so far had had no luck.

“Lord Starling!” A man called, popping in front of them. Ghost growled in warning and he took a step back. “I mean no harm, my lord. My name is Tycho Nestoris and I am a representative of the Iron Bank. My men were told that Starling ships were seen in the bay and, well, we don’t have wolves in Essos. I merely meant to introduce myself and ask if there is anything the Iron Bank can offer you, my lord. We have, after all, worked together so well in the past.”

Jon nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. He didn’t enjoy the thought of getting entangled with the Iron Bank and their mercenary interest rates, but he had no idea where his search for Daenerys might lead him or how long it would take. So the aid of an international institution might be essential.

“There is indeed something we can work together on,” Jon said and the banker smiled, sniffing good business. “If you would give me a moment to arrange my lady sister’s return to the ship, I believe we should talk in a more private place.”

“Of course, my lord,” Tycho said, bowing, and taking a few steps back.

“Let me come with you!” Arya asked.

“Absolutely no way,” Jon said. “I'm not taking any chances whatsoever. I don’t think the Iron Bank would dupe us, they want profit too much, but we can’t know if there isn’t someone who is paying more.”

“In their defence, the Iron Bank doesn’t publicly take sides. They wouldn’t attack you inside their own building, it would be disastrous to business. Though I agree, let’s not take chances,” Addam said.

“Fine,” Arya said, though displeased. “I’ll go back to the ship. But…”

“But, if I’m not back by nightfall, you are the one in command. You get the ships and you sail back home. Promise me, Arya. I'm beyond serious.”

“But what about…”

“If they take me and Addam down, then you won’t have enough men or intel to rescue or avenge us. Go home, tell Uncle Benjen and Father and they will know a better way. Promise me.”

“I can’t leave you behind!”

“And I can’t have my sister at risk! If they take us there is _nothing_ you can do but get hurt. Deep down, beneath your thick skull, you know that. Promise me.”

She looked at Addam, but found no help. Her face was now beyond anguished.

“I promise. But for the love of the gods, be back by nightfall.”

“I will do my hardest,” Jon said and they hugged. “Hey, you remember what Father says about promises, right?”

She nodded and let Grenn and Wex escort her back to the ship.

“What are you planning to do?” Addam asked.

“Something potentially very expensive,” Jon answered with a sigh.

Leeds fell into step and they followed the banker back to the imposing building that held the biggest financial institution in the Known World.

“Lord Starling,” other two bankers greeted as they were led to a large hall, all made of marble. Jon sat at the table, looking at them sitting at their higher table almost with amusement, while Addam and Leeds stood by him and Ghost sat right next to his chair. “What do you come to ask of the Iron Bank today?”

“Ask?” Jon chuckled. “It was your representative who came to me in the street.” That threw them off.

“We just meant… you are in Braavos and—”

“And as far as I am aware, my lords, Braavos is a city with so many things. It only happens to also house the Iron Bank. It might have escaped your notice, but we have entered into a few business deals and never before had I come here. Even before I had proved I had any real fortune, you sent the representative to my castle, not the other way around. I was in Braavos and your man came to me. So I believe we don’t need this setting as it is, do we?” He picked up his chair and brought it up the steps to sit across from the bankers at their table. “Now, isn’t this much more comfortable?”

The bankers twitched uncomfortably.

“Now, my lords,” Jon went on, “it so happens that this meeting presents an opportunity I had not previously envisioned. One, I believe, that will mean good business to us both. So it was indeed opportune that your man came to me,” he said, highlighting the point that was more convenient to him.

“We would be delighted to make business,” Noho Dimittis said. “House Starling has always been a very good partner.”

“Aye, we have. But you are right in thinking that I am not in Braavos for leisure, my lords,” Jon said. “Someone has decided to kidnap my lady wife. I do not intend to let it stand.”

“Of course not, my lord,” Tycho said. “Would you like to borrow funds for a rescue mission?”

“Not like that,” Jon said. “Unfortunately, I do not have a certainty as to who my foe is at the moment, but I do have a clue.” He took the drawing Sarella had made of the dead kidnapper’s tattoo and unrolled it on the table.

“Where did you find this?” Noho asked.

“On the arm of one of the men sent into my home to take my wife. I would have asked for more details, but it is quite hard to speak with dead men.”

“The tattoo is the sigil of a sellsword company,” Tycho said.

“That I know,” Jon said. “Which one?” The bankers hesitated. “My lords, I’m afraid I must be assured you can find them.”

“The Second Sons,” Tycho revealed, though he clearly wished not to. “Finding out their current whereabouts and their employer can be done — we do have agents all across the Known World — but it will not be cheap.”

“No, I don’t believe it will. And this is where you come in. I would like to offer a reward for Lady Starling’s safe return. If the payment is processed through your bank, you will obviously take your cut. Also, if your agents find her, you will be entitled to the reward. I am certain you are in quite the position to spread the news.”

“We are,” Tycho said with a small smile. “But you do not look like the sort of man who will return to your castle and wait for others to rescue the lady in distress. What else would you propose, my lord?”

“I am going to continue on with my search. And, as such, I might run out of supplies. Instead of depending on a merchant’s good will to expect payment from a House they have never dealt with before, wouldn’t it be so much easier if I could sign a bank bill and the merchant will take their money from you as you deduct it from House Starling’s outstanding balance?”

“Well, we do work this kind of business,” Noho said. “Except House Starling has no outstanding balance. You make all your payments on time, that is true, but you have no outstanding balance.”

“I am aware,” Jon said. “But I could send a raven to Lord Tarly and have him include a sum into the next payment. If the debt is bigger, we will send more with the next payment — as you said, House Starling always honours the payments.”

The bankers exchanged a look. Jon could see the gleam in their greedy little eyes, thinking that, if the payment wasn’t honoured, they could try and claim the Starling mines and the rare winter diamond they were selling oh-so-slowly. As far as the Iron Bank was concerned, it was a scenario that didn’t involve loss.

“As always, Lord Starling, it will be a pleasure to make business with you.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It was still mid-afternoon when Jon, Addam, Ghost, and Leeds returned to the _Wintersong_ , and Arya was pacing the deck. She exhaled in relief and hugged her brother tightly.

“I hated every minute of this,” she complained.

“Well, now you know how I feel having you in danger,” Jon said and she looked down, blushing. “Is everyone back?”

“Ser Davos just returned, milord,” Wex said. “He had a man with him and they went down to the command cabin.”

Jon nodded and started to make his way there. He huffed and rolled his eyes when Arya begun to follow.

“I’ll listen to the conversation anyway, why not make it easier on me?” she said.

He grumbled under his breath, but didn’t stop her. They went below deck and followed to the command cabin, where Davos was laughing with his company.

“Lord Starling,” the Onion Knight said, “this is Salladhor Saan. He knows all about Essos.”

“About everywhere, really,” Salladhor said.

“Yes, yes,” Davos said. “He recognised the tattoo, my lord. It’s the Second Sons.”

“Aye, I heard the same,” Jon said. “Do you know where they are now?”

“Last I heard — and that was about a year ago — they were moving east. The Free Cities don’t like their new captain, a fellow by the name of Mero, so they weren’t hiring them.

“This Mero, what do you know of him?” Addam asked.

“He is called ‘the Titan’s bastard’ and has a very bad reputation,” Saan said. “People say he is evil, that’s why the company can’t find work.”

“And this man now has my wife,” Jon said in a low and cold voice. “Can you find them?”

“I can take you across the continent to where I last heard they were. I can put my ships in your service and use my knowledge of Essos to your advantage. I know people in the right places. But I won’t make guarantees.”

“Would you give us a moment?” Addam asked as Jon started to pace. “Davos, do you trust this man?”

“We’ve done business in the past and he’s never played anyone, far as I know. I heard he was in town and thought to ask if he’d seen anything. I found nothing on the harbour.”

“We didn’t either,” Jon said. “And he is right, we don’t know anything or anyone in Essos. We need someone who does or we’ll be chasing the wind.” He took a deep breath. “Very well, call him back in. I’ll hire his services, though I don’t need all of his ships and men.”

Davos nodded and not long after Jon and Salladhor Saan had reached a deal. Then they spread a map of the Narrow Sea on the table and went down to business.

“Davos says you came from here,” Saan put a pin on the western coast of the Blessed Island, “while the kidnappers left from here,” he placed a second pin on the eastern coast. “Except that you crossed all the way to Essos and didn’t catch them.”

“No,” Jon agreed. “We were hoping to intercept them, but no such luck. We spread out to form a blockade, but still nothing.”

“Well, these men knew what they were doing,” the pirate lord said. “They wouldn’t have risked taking the lady without a good escape plan. My expert opinion is that, since they knew there would likely be pursuit from you, my lord, they had their ship fully stocked. Like that, they didn’t need to stop in Braavos, they must have set sail full strength south and stop further away.”

“But further away where?” Davos asked. “The sea is narrow but there are enough places on both coasts. Too many for us to cover and still catch up with them.”

“What about Gulltown?” Addam asked from where was leaning against the wall. “They must have predicted they would lose a few men to our guards, or that at least someone would see their tattoos. And besides, they weren’t making an effort to speak Common, they were speaking low Valyrian. Therefore, it is reasonable to imagine that we would connect them to Essos. So wouldn’t it be safer to stop at a Westerosi city?”

“That is a good thought,” Saan said. “I say it is worth a shot.”

“We don’t know where they are,” Jon said. “We know they didn’t pass through here and that they are certainly headed south, because they wouldn’t dare go North and there is nothing for them at the Wall.”

“And we know that the Royal Fleet is moving to set a blockade at the Stepstones,” Addam added. “That should stop or at least delay them.”

“Then it’s decided,” Jon said. “Ser Davos, get the ships and the men ready — we’ve already spent two days resupplying and searching for them here. We set sail with the next tide to Gulltown.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

_Dear aunt,_

_Of course we must delay the wedding, as it cannot take place while the bride’s good-sister was kidnapped and the bride’s brother left in search of her. Also, I do not think I need to say it, but know that if you need anything, all you need do is ask and our men and our ships will be there for you._

_I will keep my eyes and ears opened to ships coming from Lannisport — and I am certain Prince Oberyn would be delighted for the chance to sink them. But I know that, unless the Lannisters make any hostile moves, we should stand back. I pray everything is well in King's Landing and I look forward to hearing about Lady Starling’s safe return._

_Love,_

_Lord Edric of House Dayne, Lord of Starfall_

 

Ella drummed her finger on the desktop, worried. Something was off. Cersei was only coming to the capital because she had an agenda, that she was sure of, but what and how to be sure? This looked too much like a cyvasse board and they were the pieces being moved in the hands of the player. But her family’s safety lied in beating the player and winning the game.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“FUCK!” Jon yelled loudly, punching the wooden wall of the command cabin. He had been calm and collected as they walked the harbour in Gulltown, but the moment they stepped through the threshold of the command cabin of the ship, he had lost his temper — not that Addam was in any way judging.

“Hey, hey, hey, Jon, you need to take a deep breath,” the knight said.

“This was a waste of time!” Jon yelled, completely out of control, his eyes wide, breathing hard. “They’re not here! They didn’t stop here! We don’t know where—”

“I know!” Addam yelled back and Jon stopped, stunned into silence. “For what’s worth, this was my suggestion and I'm sorry! But this is a chase, Jon! Punching a hole through the ship’s side will only delay us!”

“An evil man took my wife,” Jon said, nearly catatonic. “Gods knows what’s he’s doing to her!”

“You’re right,” Addam said calmly. “We don’t know. But you know Dany. She is a survivor. She is the strongest woman I know, right at the top, with Lyanna. She is going to make it.”

“She didn’t,” Jon whispered. “She’s dead. Father came back from Dorne with her bones. She’s died and now—”

“Alright, terrible parallel, but Dany is _not_ going to die like Lyanna did.”

Jon blinked and turned to him, frowning. “How did she die? Father never—”

 _Seven fucking hells_ , Addam thought. “Dany is going to make it, because she’s a fighter. And we will find her and bring her home. There is no other truth.”

“Tell Davos to take us out,” Jon said. “I need to be alone.”

Addam exhaled heavily, using the table as support. A few moments later, Davos came into the room and the knight relayed Jon’s orders.

“Sure, boys are finishing loading up the last few boxes. We’ll leave with the next tide in a couple hours.”

“Good,” Addam said. “After the slew of crushing information, please tell me we have some good news.”

“We do,” Davos smiled. “We got enough supplies on _all_ the ships to get us as far as the Stepstones, so we can head straight to Tyrosh to meet the Royal Fleet without stopping anywhere. And there are winds coming from the North, even though they should be blowing from the south this time of year, so we’ll be there faster.”

“I’d love to say yay, but if it pushes our sails, it pushes theirs as well,” the knight grumbled.

“More time for the royal navy to entertain them, then,” Davos said, ever the optimist. “I’ll get us to sail, my lord.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guuuuys! Hope you've enjoyed this one! I'm having a lot of fun writing this arc, since it was one of the reasons I started the story to begin with, and I'm so excited I managed to make it this far! Now, I won't give away any spoilers on who took Dany, but actually the answer is not far! But keep guessing, I love your comments!
> 
> Also, someone asked if I could potentially make one of those summaries of who works in each House, like GRRM has at the end of the books and I wouldn't mind at all sharing it with you guys, since I have most of this info written down, and I believe some of you would enjoy it and it would make it easier to keep track of all the people in the story. I'm just unsure how I'd share it. So if anyone has any suggestions, do share :)


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany tries to make the best of her situation, while Jon keeps trying to find her. In King's Landing, Jaime hears something he never expected to hear.

Daenerys threw up the poor excuse of supper she had been served last night, retching and heaving, her insides twisting. The waters were choppy, what was definitely not agreeing with her stomach, and the food was terrible and far too spiced, so the change in diet was certainly making her feel even worse.

The door burst open and she groaned. Every visit from her captor was more infuriating than the last. He was rude and cringe-worthy, on top of being the man who took her from her home. He dragged a young woman wearing rags inside and she immediately went to her knees where he had pushed her. Dany couldn’t help but notice her olive skin, something beyond rare in Westeros, and the beauty hidden beneath the fear on her face.

“This whore is a translator,” Mero said in a grumble. Then he switched to low Valyrian. “Whore, you know what to tell her. So do it and then I don’t have to waste my time speaking their snobbish language. And clean her up! I’ll send someone to get you later.”

Daenerys watched him leave, still pretending to not understand a word. There was no reason a Westerosi lady should speak Valyrian and it was reasonable to believe she would have been kept from her heritage, so, once she realised she had been kidnapped, Dany decided to pretend she didn’t understand them. It should buy her time until they reached their destination and, also, lower their guard: if they thought she didn’t speak the language, and therefore couldn’t communicate, there would be no need to worry she would talk to merchants while at port. Not that they had stopped anywhere yet.

“What’s your name?” she asked softly.

“This one’s name is Missandei,” the woman answered, still with her head low. “May I assist you, Your Grace?”

Dany sat on the floor, confident the nausea had passed — or at least that there was nothing left on her stomach. “Why do they call me Princess? I have been stripped of my title. And please, look up when you speak.”

Missandei risked a glance upward, but quickly lowered her head. “I have not been told that, Your Grace. I was told you are a princess and I must care for you.”

“Where are we going?” Dany asked, deciding that pressing the issue would accomplish nothing. “What happened? I saw… I don’t know what I saw… the castle… the fog…”

“The black castle went up in flames,” Missandei said, still looking down, but extending her hand to pull Daenerys up.

“No,” she said. “I don’t believe you.” _That can't be_ , she thought. _The Midnight Fortress was built and rebuilt to withstand much more than a band of pirates_.

“Captain Mero had his men infiltrate the Guard, Your Grace. They set bombs from Yi-Ti and set fire to the castle. I saw the fire,” Missandei said. _So did I_ , Dany thought. _But I won't believe it_. “The last men to come aboard said…” the slave continued.

“What about my family? My lord husband and my children?”

“I am sorry, Your Grace,” Missandei kneeled down in supplication. “Forgive me for being the bearer of such bad news, but they said they were dead. Lord Starling, the other lords and ladies, and the children from the family wing. Only a young woman escaped on a horse.”

_Arya_ , Dany thought. _At least Arya is— no, they are **all** alive. It’s a lie! _

“Where are we going?”

“I do not know, Your Grace,” Missandei finally succeeded in taking Dany from the floor and guided her to the vanity to the side. “I am a slave. I was not told.”

“Slave?” Dany was outraged. “They… but that’s absurd!”

“They give me shelter and food, Your Grace, what is more than I deserve.”

Dany caught her wrist and turned around on the bench, forcing Missandei to look her in the eye. “It is not. You are a person, not a possession.”

“I am a valuable slave, Your Grace. I speak several languages and I am a trained scribe, so they mostly leave me alone. I have good food and a decent cot. It’s too expensive to train girls like me for them to simply waste me.”

“Not being raped every day is not a blessing,” Dany insisted.

“Slavery is the way of the word.”

“Doesn’t mean that it’s right. And it might be the way of the world in Essos. Not in Westeros. Slavery is death in Westeros,” Dany bit out. _As it should_ be, she thought. She remembered, many years ago, when there was word that the Lord of Bear Island had been selling to slavers. Father had been furious and, before he left to deal with the man, he had sat all of the children and explained why it was wrong. Dany had seldom seen Ned Stark so riled up about something, what was only to prove the point of how wrong the practice was.

Her blood was pumping hot and furious through her veins and, as the ship went against a particularly strong wave, the rattling sound drew her attention to the box pushed near her cot. She stood up and lifted the lid, admiring her precious eggs. As always, the black one drew her in and she touched it — perhaps it was wishful thinking, perhaps it was her fury, but it seemed warmer than ever.

“Captain Mero said he took the treasures because they were part of the deal,” Missandei whispered. “Princess and all the three eggs, those were his orders.”

Dany smiled. _They don’t know there are more!_ Lyanna had made a beautiful nest for Blue inside the dollhouse, though all three children slept hugging their eggs. Aemon even went as far as curling up like a ball around his golden one. And the other eggs found in the volcano were kept inside the vaults, safe from prying eyes. But Dany had never been able to let these three out of her bedchamber.

She turned back to Missandei, wondering if she could trust this poor slave girl sent to tend to her. Promising to free her would be complicated, as Dany still had no idea where she was being taken — though her suspicions of Essos were growing ever stronger — and she had no men and no money with her. She had to keep watching Missandei, learning her character. And then, once Dany knew more, she could try and do something really stupid. Like a mutiny.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Arya snuck through the narrow corridors to the forge in the back, using the fact it was time for supper and there was no one around. As she did every night, she waited until Gendry put down his hammer and pulled him around and into a kiss.

“You need to stop doing this,” he complained, though his arms closed around her.

“Really?” She chuckled. “Because you’re kissing me back.”

He groaned, as he did every time, but surrendered. Each night their kisses grew bolder and deeper, what always brought a thrill to her. Taking a chance, she waited until they parted, out of breath, and kissed down his throat. Gendry groaned even deeper, his fingers at her hips tightening as he struggled for control.

“Arya, you have to stop. You have to go.”

“Why?” she whispered.

She had always known he had a great physique, all the way back to their first meeting, but in her last visit, she had been haunted by his form and then all that she liked in him as a friend seemed to grow and develop into a different kind of liking. Hearing the girls in court speaking of their conquests had only made her more curious. That morning in the forge, before the bells sounded, she had been hit over the head with the fact that friendship and bantering were not enough anymore. She moaned unhappily when Gendry pulled away, holding her at arm’s length, though by the way he was clinging to her, he very obvious did _not_ want to let go.

“We’ve talked about this, Arya. You’re a lady. A highborn.”

She was feeling powerful, strong. His lips were red and swollen and his blue eyes were shining in a way that sent shivers down her spine.

“And I’ve told you I don’t care,” she said, stepping forward and gluing her front to his, nipping her way up his neck to his earlobe. “You don’t fully care either, I know that.”

Gendry moaned, his resistance failing him completely. “I'm a man, Arya. I'm no noble lord, stop tempting me.”

“Never!” she whispered into his ear, biting down on his earlobe. That sent him wild, forcing her to walk backwards the few steps to his worktable and pushing her against it. Gendry kissed her wildly and desperately, one hand pulling her waist closer and the other burrowing in her dark hair, ruining the sloppy braid she wore.

“Seven hells, you’re driving me crazy!” he grumbled against her neck. Arya chuckled, pulling him down to another kiss. “When your brother kills me, I’m gonna die a happy man at least.”

“I have a sword. I’ll defend your honour.”

He laughed, pulling back and looking into her eyes with an emotion they were both scared of naming. “I guess I’ll need your sword _and_ your dagger, milady.”

“Well, I don’t know how good my dagger is,” Arya joked, “the smith that made it is very lazy. Very poor craftsmanship.”

“I’ll show you lazy,” Gendry grumbled, drawing her into yet another kiss.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Mero climbed back up to the main deck of the ship, seeing Tyrosh come closer on the horizon. It was nearing sunset but, at this rate, they would be there tomorrow by dawn.

“Scout ship just came back,” Daario said, playing with an apple. “We got company,” he pointed in the direction of the city and Mero saw the outlines of a fleet.

“Westerosi?”

“Royals and Redwyne, whoever they are. If they’re already here, I guess the whore was right and the damned wolves sounded the alarm.”

“Wolves as warning bells, that’s a new one!” The captain snorted. “Those Redwynes, who are they?”

“It seems they sell wine and happened to be in town as the Royal fleet was leaving, so they tagged along.” Daario shrugged.

“Numbers, Daario, gimme numbers,” Mero grumbled, looking through the eyeglass.

“Not so sure, they may have kept a few of them hidden beyond the shoreline, but so far ten Royal warships, fully manned, plus four merchant carracks and six warships from the Redwynes, also fully manned to protect the cargo from pirates, I imagine.”

“Meaning a long fight.” Mero was unhappy. “Twenty bloody ships. Sixteen of them bigger than ours.”

“Well, I’d go with sixteen ships and four useless anchors to be in the way. We don’t have any warships, only ten carracks, but they’re all fully manned with good fighters, not the soft lords these Westerosi prefer.”

“Our men might be better, but they have the numbers,” Mero said. “Besides, we looted their salt ponds: in a fight we could lose a lot of money if they sink any of our ships and I happen to like gold.”

“And there is the fact that, even if we keep this ship back, if they know we looted the salt and they find it in any of our ships, they’ll know for sure the Princess is in one of them, and it’s gonna be a hell of a bigger fight,” Daario pointed out.

“Can we go around Tyrosh?”

“If you want a riled-up crew, sure.” Daario shrugged. “We’ve been rationing for a while and now we’re down to salted beef and candied fruit. And very little of it. We ran out of fresh water for the crew earlier today and even ours and the Princess’ is only lasting till tomorrow — or, at best, the day after. We can’t make it to Lys. And if they are spread out, we can’t even stop in the way,” the lieutenant summed up and the captain grimaced. “I thought of something.”

Mero snorted. “How many people do you want to get killed this time?”

Daario only rolled his eyes. He was a bit impulsive, so what? “I know Tyrosh, these fools don’t. I know which merchants to trust and which people to bribe at the harbour. We spread the news we’re traders from Pentos — and with the harbour bribed in our favour, we say we’re regular traders, passing by every few moons, and we avoid suspicion — and we’re going to get cargo from Qarth and we see where it takes us. You stay back in this ship, as far away as we can manage without arising suspicion, and send the others as close as we can get, then we’ll load them up with as much as we can get. Afterwards, the boats can transfer cargo from the other ships to this one. This way we can get enough to go as far as Lys.”

“It sounds good. But I wanted to go from here straight to Volantis,” Mero complained.

“If we’re merchants from Pentos there’s no way we’d need as many supplies as we’d buy in order to get as far as Volantis,” Daario said. “Best to lose a few days to stop in Lys than risk something here. Besides, we’ve got an advantage here: scouts in the rear-guard say they’re not in sight, what means we’re at least two days ahead of them. And if they left in a hurry, they’ll have stopped already or will need to stop before Lys to resupply, so we can afford the stop there. Besides, a night in Lys might do very well for the crew,” Daario finished with a grin. “They’re starting to be jealous that there is only one whore aboard.”

Mero laughed. “Alright, I agree. And see if you can get something for a weak stomach.”

“Are you going soft now, cap’ain?” Daario jested.

“Say that again and I’ll show you my blade,” Mero said. “That Princess is fucking throwing up everything she eats. Last thing I need is to have her sick or even die and lose our payment. I’d rather gag her or put her to sleep till we make it there, but I have to appreciate that her royal arse is gonna make us very rich.”

“Fine, I’ll handle it,” Daario said. _Even more reason to keep the crew happy: if the men decided the women aboard should be shared, the Princess wouldn’t be spared and there went their gold_ , he thought. “She believe you about the castle?”

“Dumb bitch doesn’t speak Valyrian,” Mero said. “Bet they’ll be very happy ‘bout that. I told the slave to tell her.”

“Mero, she wasn’t completely awake when we were pushing off. What if the hallucination potion didn’t work? We got the crew to believe they were seeing the castle on fire, but if she doesn’t…”

“Don’t mind that, you cunt,” the captain muttered. “If she doesn’t believe us, her issue. If she wasn’t awake, even better, because she didn’t see that the castle _didn’t_ burn. Our orders were to kill them if we could or tell her we did. What happens now is their problem.”

Daario only nodded and left his place, biting into the apple.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Robb was pacing in his solar, his anxiety driving him crazy. Notwithstanding the ravens about Dany’s kidnapping; Jon’s leaving in pursuit; Arya stowing away to follow their brother; and the Lannisters returning to the capital, it had been at least six hours since Margaery had gone into labour and still no news from upstairs.

“Seven now,” Theon said, turning the hourglass.

“This is ridiculous!” Robb exclaimed. “Why is it taking so long?” he snorted. “And why must she be stubborn and forbid me to be there?” he grumbled.

“Because she’s got five cousins with her inside that room and before you say it, Dany was following Ayla, who is Dornish, and the Dothraki handmaiden, it’s different than a southern pompous lady. Or was your father allowed in when your mother was having your siblings?”

“I know, I know, you’ve said that before.”

“Besides, it’s your second child. You already knew she’d keep you away.”

“Theon, right now you’re being the most unhelpful friend in the North.”

The ironborn only laughed. Nearly half the sand in the hourglass came down before Maester Luwin came in. “Another son, my lord! My congratulations!”

Robb smiled widely. “And Lady Margaery?”

“Tired, but well. She said you may go up now.”

Happier than he had been in a very long time, Robb took the stairs two at a time and walked into Margaery’s usually unused bedchamber. Her five Tyrell cousins curtseyed and left quickly and he went to sit by his wife as she held their son on the bed. The boy already had a mop of dark hair, though no other feature was recognisable now.

“I think he looks more like you than Little Ned did,” she said. “What would you like to name him?”

Robb smiled, awed, touching the baby’s face softly. He had thought about names long and hard and, though he had a preference, he had only made a decision now, seeing his son’s little face.

“Jon,” Robb said. “Jon Stark.”

“He will come back, my love,” Margaery said softly. “He will find Dany and he will come back with her.”

“I know,” Robb said, certain. “But we name our children after people we admire. And I admire my brother.”

Margaery smiled and kissed his cheek, then looked at the baby. “You’d better send ravens then, announcing Little Jon Stark’s birth.”

“It’s late,” he nodded at the moonlight coming through the window. “I’ll worry about that in the morning.”

He snuggled next to his wife and they sat there, admiring their new son.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Willas was waiting at the harbour when their boat docked, an odd mix of Tyrell, Redwyne, and even a couple of Stark guards with him.

“Lord Willas!” Jon greeted as he jumped up to the wooden pier. “I’m glad to see you well. Please, what are the news?”

“It is good to see you as well, Lord Starling, though I wish we were under better circumstances. I have rented rooms in an inn nearby, if you would come with me, I suppose we should be more comfortable to speak there.”

“Of course,” Jon agreed. “Davos, can you manage to get all the supplies we need?”

“I know the best merchants in town, my lord,” Salladhor said. “Don’t worry, we’re all set here.”

Jon nodded and so he, Addam, Arya, Ghost, and Nymeria followed Willas and his entourage a little way down the street to a decent-looking inn. The inn-keeper acknowledged their entrance but said nothing as Willas led the way up the rickety stairs to a room with two sofas. Two of the guards crossed it and left through the other door, to stand outside it, while two more took the door they came in, and the others presumably were protecting the building.

“I have been in town for nearly a fortnight, my lord,” Willas started once they were all seated. “The townsfolk have been of little help, other than the merchants who have been selling supplies. We noticed few ships coming from the north and heading south and we noted down each one. It came to my attention only last night, one of my men was able to find out in the brothel, that a group of ships, who claimed to be regular traders from Pentos, was actually not. And I have reason to believe they’re the ones we’re looking for.”

“Why?” Jon asked and Willas reached into his pockets.

“My man was able to find out from the whores what they used as payment.” He put the items on the centre table and Jon reached for them.

“A bag filled with copper stars and another with…” Jon frowned.

“Copper stars are Westerosi coins and I thought odd they would pay in salt as well, but…” Willas started.

“It’s not odd at all,” Jon said, angry. “They left across the island from the main harbour, where we hold the salt ponds. It seems that, other than my wife, they decided to loot my stores as well!”

“We know they’re going east then,” Willas said. “According to the whore, they were picking up precious cargo from Qarth.”

“Gold for Lady Starling, no doubt,” Arya said.

“They’ll sell the salt as well,” Addam said. “Possibly on the way, to pay for supplies or to make room for them.”

“We’ll be lucky if they sell them, actually,” Arya said with a smile.

“So I can spend money to buy my own goods?” Jon asked, clenching his jaw.

“No, silly,” Arya said, rolling her eyes. “If they’re selling the salt, they’re leaving a trail for us to follow. Unless you’d rather we keep following them blindly, I think it’s money well spent.”

“Salt is common enough!” Jon argued. “It could come from anywhere!”

“No, no, Arya has a point,” Addam said. “Salt is common, you’re right, but anyone who has it to sell would look for a merchant to trade. Only men in a ship who only stays overnight — or who only get an overnight leave in port — would pay whores with salt instead of going to a merchant and getting better coin.”

“If the money is better with the merchant—” Arya started, but Jon cut in.

“Lord Willas, are you here with the Royal fleet? What are my lord father’s plans for it?”

“Lord Stark and Lord Manderly said the ships here in Tyrosh are at your disposal and under your command, Lord Starling. I came here because my cousin, Ser Hobber Redwyne, was delivering wine in King's Landing, on his way to Tyrosh, and agreed to join the Royal fleet as far as here.”

“I see,” Jon said, biting his lower lip and taking a moment to think. “My prey is not in Tyrosh, Lord Willas, and so I will continue further east and, as my lord father so gracefully allowed, I shall take the Royal fleet with me. Should I assume Ser Hobber is the one in charge of the Redwyne ships here, then?”

“Yes, my lord. He went into town, but should return soon.”

Jon nodded. “We’ve been at sea long enough and our ships will take at least overnight to be loaded according to my captain, so I will make use of this inn.”

“I took the liberty of securing all of the rooms in the building. I thought it best.”

“Good, you have my thanks. Addam, send word for Sarella to come here, I’m sure she’ll enjoy a bath and a night ashore. Lord Willas, I’ll freshen up, but I would like to be called the moment your cousin returns.”

Willas nodded and the innkeeper was called to sort our rooms and baths. Jon relished the chance to properly clean up, though he couldn’t stand the tub for too long — it reminded him of Daenerys and the pool in their bathing chambers too much. And afterwards he couldn’t rest. At sea, he yearned for a night ashore in a bed that didn’t swell with the movement of the waves. But here, it just unnerved him to be stationary while Dany was moving farther away. In the end, he was unsettled and twitchy when Willas came to get him, saying his cousin was waiting in the sitting room. They exchanged greetings and the proper social courtesies, but Jon didn’t wait long to get down to business.

“Ser Hobber, Lord Willas told me you were already on your way to Tyrosh and have gracefully accepted to wait as long as we arrived. Now, though, I would ask if you would join our fleet and continue the search for Lady Starling.”

“Oh,” Hobber was clearly throw off. “I just… you see, my lord, I have responsibilities. My lord father told me to deliver the wine, and that I have done.”

“I understand that, my lord, but I requesting the aid of House Redwyne…”

“It seems to me you are requesting our _ships_ ,” Hobber said.

“Aye, my lord, I am,” Jon said, growing irritable. The young man seemed rude or just downright infuriating for no reason. “Your ships, and by extension your aid in rescuing my lady wife.”

“I am very sorry, Lord Starling, but I'm afraid I cannot. You see, this is a merchant, a trading voyage, not a rescue mission. Besides, I am not the one in charge of the ships, and so I cannot make any alliances.” Then he snorted. “But of course,” he said under his breath, “how could we expect a bastard to understand how hierarchy works.”

“Hobber!” Willas exclaimed, horrified.

Arya bristled, her nostrils flaring, and it took a close-faced Ser Davos to hold her back. Addam put his hand on his pommel, ready to answer to the insult, but Jon, furious but stone-faced, also held him back. He took a step back clenching his jaw, and turned to the window to regain his composure. Ghost took a few steps forward towards the rude lordling, but Jon called him back. A few moments of tense, disquiet silence, overtook the room.

“You are right, Ser Hobber,” Jon finally said, turning from the window. His voice was cold and hard, but there was no cruelty in his tone. “House Starling is not allied with House Redwyne. We have no more than a commercial relationship, since you buy my jewels and I buy your wine. However, and a lowly bastard like myself might be too stupid to understand this, I believe that a House owes allegiance to their liege lords and, as such, this allegiance extends to support allies of your liege lord. To my understanding, House Redwyne is sworn to House Tyrell, which is in an alliance with House Stark and, as such, the North. And no less because the heir to House Tyrell is married to a daughter of another important Northern House, the Manderlys. And, following that logic, your aid should extend to House Starling, since we are a Northern House. But, as you said, House Starling has no alliance with House Redwyne. You wouldn’t be breaking any deals. And I do hate to be obvious, my lord, but _the North remembers_. This is a great moment of need for House Starling and we will remember our friends. We will also remember those who refused that friendship.”

Willas clenched his jaw to hide his smile. Of course, as the representative of House Tyrell, he was within his rights as liege lord to commandeer the part of the Redwyne fleet in Tyrosh and send Hobber to his cabin and be quiet — which he had been intending to do from the start, though he had wanted to give Hobber a chance to help on his own. But Lord Starling had a point and it was fun seeing his cousin squirm after his inexcusable rudeness. He could take a moment to call for the ships.

“My lord, this… ah… this was not what I meant…” Hobber began hesitantly.

“Then what did you mean?” Jon asked.

“I didn’t mean to be offensive,” Hobber stuttered, his face red and flushed.

“Oh, you meant that the word bastard has any other meaning?” Addam asked, the hand on his pommel still not fully relaxed.

 “I merely meant… I mean… I don’t… I just… it is just not my place to make this decision, my lord. My father is Lord Redwyne.”

“I know that,” Jon said coolly. “And there is no way to send him a message and ask his opinion in time to help me. You are not the Lord of the Arbor, you’re not even the heir. However, your lord father gave you command and responsibility over these ships and, as such, the decision lies with you. You can take your ships and return home or you can join our armada. I will give you time to decide. But not much.”

He burst out of the room and Addam and Arya followed quickly.

“You’ll ‘give him time’?” she asked.

“This is my fight and, as he said, he owes me nothing,” Jon said with a tight voice. “Besides, I needed to get out of that room. I was dangerously close to his freckled nose.”

Sarella rushed up the rickety stairs from the busy tavern downstairs, making the others frown: she was wearing a silly dress, silk and lace and a plunging neckline, one she had probably gotten at Gulltown because it didn’t look like Kira’s design or Braavosi.

“I have news,” she said, a bit out of breath. “We already knew they were going east, but I got some information: they are going to Volantis, but they’re going to stop in Lys first.”

“How did you find that out?” Jon asked.

“You don’t need to know,” Sarella said, waiving it off.

“I do if it means we’re walking into a trap!” he insisted, though Addam cringed. Northerners were not prepared for Dornish openness.

“Fine!” Sarella said with a huff. “Suit yourself. One of the harbour masters told me.”

“And why would he just tell you?” Arya asked.

Sarella smiled. “He was good-looking.” She shrugged. “I thought I’d combine business and fun. Otherwise it’d involve blood, knives, and a bit more time. Also fun, but I was feeling like another kind of fun.”

“What do his looks have to do with anything?” Jon asked.

“Alright, that’s enough on the interrogation techniques!” Addam tried.

“No, I want to know!” Arya said.

“This is a particularly bad idea,” Addam grumbled.

“Now I'm curious,” Jon said.

“Well, your regular weak-minded man doesn’t usually realise or care about what he’s telling you when you’re playing with his cock,” she said and Jon didn’t disappoint, blushing furiously and even choking. Arya, on the other hand, seemed fascinated. “He was a bit disappointing, I won’t lie, but he gave me the piece of news I wanted and scratched the—”

“Enough, Sarella!” Addam said.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your Dornish blood, Ser?” she jested, stepping closer and attempting to slide her hands up his front, but he caught her. “Really? Nothing?”

“We’re not having this conversation,” Addam said firmly. “Thank you for the information.”

“My pleasure,” she said with a smirk.

He snorted and stepped away. Then he and Jon called Davos and went down the narrow corridor to Jon’s room to plan and she burst out laughing. Arya was impressed.

“Were you just teasing them or…?”

“Well, the tight corset certainly drew his attention,” Sarella said. “And I did feel like it, I was posing for a boy for too long. But no, I didn’t. I got him drunk, batted my eyes, and then he sounded like one of these ridiculous canaries, singing out all that I wanted to know. Though that is right: men will say anything when you play the dumb wench and they think they’re impressing you.”

“Did you…” Arya finally blushed. “They say Dorne is more… open.”

“Oh, girl, you have no idea!” Sarella laughed.

“Can you teach me?”

“I see.” The Dornish chuckled. “So you can try and seduce Gendry?”

Now Arya was flushing deeply. “I just… I…”

“I am not the best seductress out there, Arya, but I suppose I do know a bit more than a girl raised in a Northern prudish family. For the record, I happen to think it will be a great loss.”

“What will be a great loss?”

“Gendry, of course. When your brother finds out and kills him.”

“Jon wouldn’t,” Arya mumbled.

“There are rules, Arya. In Dorne they are flexible, but not anywhere else. Besides, even in our big castles there are _some_ rules. Gendry is a lowborn—”

“He is more than worthy!” Arya complained.

“I’m not saying that. I like him! He is an honest man doing an honest work. But that’s just it. He is _working_. And I'm not talking like your father works for the king or anything like that. He has no family, he has no House. Westeros will massacre you if you choose him. And he works for your brother. How can Jon allow his blacksmith to seduce his lady sister with no consequences? He would be the laugh of Court.”

“So you’re saying that…”

“I’m saying that this goes beyond you wanting a few kisses from a boy you like — and I don’t judge you for it. But there will be consequences for that. Maybe you should just…”

“Everyone knows I go horseback riding every day, even when it’s raining, so if I… no one will question a broken maidenhead if I have to marry a perfumed lord,” Arya said, chin raised, defiant.

“You… oh… alright, and we are going there,” Sarella said, getting a bit befuddled with the direction the conversation suddenly took. “Or it seems you have gone there all by yourself.” She checked both sides of the narrow corridor. “Come on, let’s get into our room. Walls are thin, but it’s better than nothing. Now tell me, what do you know? Other than how maidenheads are broken?”

“Ella told me how babies are born,” Arya said. “And thankfully didn’t use silly metaphors like Septa Mordane. She certainly didn’t say even a kiss on the cheek could get me pregnant.”

Sarella fell on her bed laughing, so hard that tears fell down her face, and she wrapped her arms around her middle.

“Gods, my sides hurt!” she said once she had recovered. “You gotta love septas! I can’t even remember the last time I laughed this hard.” She chuckled a bit more. “Alright, have you seen a cock?”

“No.” Arya blushed. “But I know that it has to go inside and that’s how I get pregnant.”

“Well, Ella got you halfway there.”

“Just a question, though,” Arya said, crossing her legs. “How does it get inside and, from what I can see from my own body, _up inside_ , when it dangles _down_ between their legs?”

“Well, this is going to be fun,” Sarella said. Arya was only half wondering if she should really have asked.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It was just past dawn and Jon, Addam, Arya, Sarella, Ghost, Nymeria, and Willas stood on the harbour, waiting for the last few boats to load the ships. Davos was very efficient in getting the men to load quickly — a skill, he said, that had been essential in his smuggling days.

After the uncomfortable situation on the day of their arrival, Ser Hobber apologised to Jon, and declared the Redwyne ships under his responsibility would join their fleet in the search for Daenerys, and he was relinquishing command in favour of his cousin Willas, his acting liege lord. Jon got the impression that, even if the apology was genuine, the offer was more due to Willas’ persuasion and perhaps even command than to Hobber’s will. But he wasn’t going to complain or investigate, so he only thanked him and said he was glad for the alliance between House Starling and House Redwyne. Even if Arya wanted to challenge Hobber for a sparring session because of the insult, Jon thought that keeping things diplomatic would be best. He had enough to deal with to care for an ill-content spoiled lord.

“I wish there was a way to tell Father where we’re going,” Jon said, though it was just for show: Dusk had left the day before with a letter for Ella.

“If only we could find one of Lord Varys’ little birds…” Willas said and Jon smiled. He hadn’t thought of that.

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Addam said, actually smiling. He wished he had had this idea last night!

“Why?” Arya asked. “It could be anyone!”

“Because, as you can see,” Addam looked around, “we Westerosi stand out like sore thumbs here. And we happen to be speaking the Common Tongue, which is not so common here. So, if we would like to send a message to King's Landing, to the King’s council for instance, all we would need to have is a few sweets and I'm certain a hungry little bird will stop by to eat and learn a new song.”

A boy seemed to materialise from thin air, startling everyone.

“He said someone could want to send him a song, milord,” the boy said. “Who are you?”

“I'm Jon Starling,” he said, stepping forward. “Can you send him a message?”

“Next ship to King's Landing leaves in the morning,” the boy said. “I can be there.”

Jon smiled. After so many weeks, he was finally having one good day! He knew where to look and there was a way to send a message home that didn’t involve his poor liar of a father pretending he had received no messages!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

As odd as it was, Jaime couldn’t wait to return to Dragonstone. King's Landing felt odd and alien when he knew Myrcella and Tommen were all the way in old Targaryen fortress and he loathed to leave them alone, even if he knew he couldn’t protect them against all of Stannis’ men. But the deal between the Lord of Dragonstone and the King included yearly reports — and what a concerned father that showed Robert was! In truth, it was just for show, a ritual to pretend in front of the Court, because it was his second year delivering said report and he had yet to do so for the King. As had happened the year before, Jaime delivered Stannis’ and Maester Cressen’s reports to Varys, Renly, and Ned Stark, thankfully being nowhere near Robert.

He would leave tomorrow, so he had left the stuffy Red Keep to go into town: he had promised his daughter a new doll. Now Jaime smiled. Myrcella hadn’t been very forthcoming in the _how_ she had found out, only shrugging and changing the subject, but he had found he loved having a daughter — or at least having a daughter that knew him as father and not uncle.

He was walking down the Street of Silk, distracted on his way to the dollmaker’s, when he heard the words that made a chill go down his spine.

“Hiring more people?” one of the men walking just ahead of him said. “Why would the Guild be hiring more people? They’ve been dwindling ever since the Mad King died!”

“And may he rot in the hells!” the other man with him said. “But that’s what I heard, old friend: the Guild of Alchemists has been hiring new people, and a whole lot of them.”

“Whatever for? What can the new fat king want from them?”

“Don’t know. But they’re making something. That’s what I heard. It took them all these years to teach more people, since their senior members were killed in the Sack, but now they’ve got them all set and they’re hiring a bunch of people to do the gods know what!”

The two men turned down another street and Jaime followed down his path numbly. _He_ had killed the senior members of the Guild at the end of the Rebellion. He had killed Aerys, then Rossart, and in the following days, tracked down Garigus and Bellis and killed them as well in hopes of making sure the secret of wildfire was lost. It seemed the recipe for the disastrous and deadly substance was written down somewhere, after all, still capable of being taught to new acolytes.

Jaime didn’t fancy himself a hero, though he knew (and he was one of three) that King's Landing was only standing today because of the action the rest of Westeros reviled him for. And now it seemed his twenty years of torment might have been for naught: if the Guild was producing wildfire… but who would order such a thing? He abandoned his quest for the doll. He was in no mood for that right now. He needed to think and vent, and quite possible hit his head on the wall for not setting the Guild Hall on fire all those years ago.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears! Hope you've enjoyed this one! As always, I would love to hear your thoughts in comment and kudos form :)
> 
> That said, I've decided to upload the summaries for the Houses, much like GRRM has at the end of his books, as a separate part of the story. Summer is unfortunately over today, so I'll work to ready them as I can this week -- if you are series or author subscribed, you'll receive the email notification when I do, if not I'll warn you guys next chapter.
> 
> See you next week :)


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned has an unpleasant surprise while Dany hears something she never expected.

Missandei wiped Dany’s eyebrow as she relaxed against the wall. They had arrived in Volantis the day before and, since it would take longer than overnight to load the supplies for the voyage around the Valyrian peninsula, Mero decided the higher officers would enjoy the time ashore. That and he was starting to worry his golden prize would die before they reached their destination: Dany was fading away, growing thinner and thinner as she couldn’t keep any food down, and now even a fever had set in.

“Your Grace, I swear not to tell them,” Missandei said, “but is it possible that you are pregnant?”

Dany snorted, weaker than a kitten. This had been her first real chance to escape, the first time she had left her golden cage in the ship, but she was too weak to walk over to the bed, let alone run away from sellswords.

“It’s not impossible,” she said, remembering and yearning for the nights Jon would take her to bed and they would fall asleep exhausted in a mess of sated limbs, his seed hot and dripping from inside her. “But I’ve had three babies already and I’ve never felt this sick. Or any sick at all. It’s only the lack of moonblood that allows me to know.” Missandei nodded, choosing to keep to herself the fact that they had been at sea for over a moon turn and the Princess had not bled yet. “It’s the food,” Dany went on. “I’ve travelled by sea before and I’ve never been this seasick — and we’ve been ashore for over a day. It has to be the different food.”

“Tell me how Westerosi food is made and I will make it for you, Your Grace,” Missandei said, truly anxious. She liked Dany and she wanted to protect her. There was a knock on the door and Doreah came in.

“You…” Dany said. “They brought you too?”

“Don’t get up, my lady,” Doreah said, rushing to her side. Dany put a hand to her face.

“You’ve been beaten… who did this?”

“I’m a whore, my lady,” Doreah said. “Men sometimes get violent. I'm used to it.”

Dany felt another wave of nausea overtake her at the words, but she only dry-heaved over the chamber pot. “Why would they keep you away this long?” she asked once she relaxed against the wall again.

“I don’t know. The captain has me locked in his chambers, though he shares me with the officers sometimes. He hoped you’d get better now that we’re in dry land, but you haven’t. I made a broth — I'm not much of a cook, but I tried to make it like you had it back home.”

“I can’t…” Dany croaked. “I just can’t eat anything.”

“Your Grace, you haven’t eaten properly in days!” Missandei exclaimed.

“Doreah, were you… were you awake when we left? What happened to the castle? Lord Starling and the children? And the others?”

Doreah lowered her head, genuine tears falling. She had actually been glad that Mero had kept her away — though she didn’t care much for being used as the captain’s whore. But she had been dreading this conversation because she knew her life depended on this answer: Mero wouldn’t hesitate in killing her. After he had the whole crew rape her, most likely.

“Lord Starling was in the room with us, my lady, so he… they had already gone through Ghost. We passed by Lady and Lady Lyanna on the way, Lady Crystark not much further. I only saw the door to the nursery, but… Irri tried to run away with Lord Aemon, but they only made it as far as the stables. Lord Crystark tried to stop them taking you, but he was outnumbered, even when Ser Davos brought more men. The blacksmith tried to hide Lady Arya, but she wouldn’t stay put. The only one who made it out was Lady Sarella.” There was a commotion out the door, which opened after a moment.

“Archmaester!” Dany greeted. “I'm so sorry!”

“Nonsense,” Marwyn said. “Girl, fetch me mustard seeds and lavender roots, now! And get me a bloody healer with a bunch of potions if you can, I need to work!” Doreah nodded and left in a hurry.

“Lavender roots don’t cure a bad stomach,” Missandei said, but she was smiling.

“I like you,” Marwyn said. “You know Volantis?” he asked but she denied. “Too bad, would have made it easier. Now, I know that at least Alleras made it out, whatever was it that we saw from the boat with the castle in flames. So I expect she’ll have sent a raven to her father and hopefully the Dornish will be after us. The Starks certainly will. This is our chance to get lost in the crowd and wait for rescue.”

“You can’t… I just… what do you…?”

“Please, Lady Starling, I was graced with two eyes and a reasonable intellect. I won’t deny that she did fool me at the beginning, but she’s been by my side long enough. But I find it highly amusing, actually, and why should she be kept from learning just because she lacks a cock?”

Dany chuckled. “You are certainly a different kind of maester.”

“I take pride in that. Now, then, this sickness of yours. Can it be a little dragonwolf on the way?” he asked.

“It’s not impossible,” Dany shrugged, “but I was just telling Missandei, I’ve never been this sick before.”

“I'm sure Lady Crystark would agree with me that each pregnancy is different than the last.” Marwyn felt her forehead. “You’re running a fever. You need more potions than what I have and you need longer ashore.”

“Captain won't like that,” Missandei murmured.

“I doubt a sellsword captain woke up one day and decided to kidnap a lady half-way across the world for the fun of it,” the Archmaester sneered. “He was hired to do it and I doubt his patron will pay him if Lady Starling dies on the way. You look after her, I will try and prevail on the captain’s good nature.”

“I’m not sure he has one, Archmaester,” Dany said.

“Well, however much I might share your opinion, I must try.”

Missandei helped Dany to the bed and nursed her forehead for a long time until the Archmaester returned with Daario.

“Is she awake?” Marwyn asked and Missandei shook her head.

“I’ll carry her,” Daario said. “Bloody hells, she’s burning up!” he exclaimed once he’d lifted Dany in his arms.

“As I was explaining to your captain,” Marwyn said. “Come on, let’s go.”

“You’re coming too, Missandei!” Daario said and they left the inn, surrounded by other sellswords, walking with a bit of difficulty through the busy and paved streets of Volantis.

Once they turned to walk into the Red Temple, a lone figure following them lost himself back in the crowd. He had much to report.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Arya grinned, glad she had taken her boots off in the corridor, setting them aside, and tiptoeing her way to the narrow cot to the back of the forge. Gendry was fast asleep, his face serene and relaxed, one of his strong arms folded to pillow his head and the other thrown carelessly to the side, leaving his bare muscled chest clear for her hungry inspection. She looked down his body, trying not to blush once she got to his crotch. Sarella had been a joyful source of information, especially once they had pilfered a flagon of good wine from the officer’s stores and proceeded to get drunk from it.

Carefully not to wake him, Arya climbed onto the cot to straddle his hips, spreading kisses up his chiselled chest. She bit back a smile when one of the muscles in his abdomen trembled with the caress. She got as far as his pectorals before Gendry woke up and stiffened, realising their position.

“What do you think you're doing?” he asked in alarm, though making no movement to push her away.

“Saying good morning.” She chuckled, biting down on the soft area where his shoulder met his neck. Gendry groaned in pleasure, both his hands flying to her waist. “Are you going to send me away?”

“Are you going to go?” he asked and she smiled at the strain in his voice. “Arya, just…” He cleared his throat. “Just let me up. I won't tell you to go. Gods know I'm not strong enough.”

“I like how we are now,” she said, finally reaching his lips and they got lost in a kiss. She smiled again when she felt the stirring beneath her. “It seems you like it too,” she added, going for another kiss.

Gendry broke apart once he ran out of air, watching her as she loomed over him. She looked a vision, too good to be real. Certainly too good for him. He sat up, wanting to get her off his lap before he did something _very_ stupid, but Arya wasn’t keen, wrapping her legs around him to keep them as close as possible.

“We can’t do this,” he grunted, feeling her kisses like lightening going through his body. Feeling about to explode, he used all of his strength to push her away and stood up, leaving her alone on the cot.

“You’re getting tiring with this discourse,” Arya said and finally she ran out of patience.

“It’s one thing to steal kisses, and that is already bad enough. You _know_ that, Arya!”

“Why are men expected to whore around while women have to be virgins?”

“Oh for…” He exhaled, biting back the curse. “We’ve had this argument Arya. Doesn’t matter if it’s fair or not, it’s the way the world is!”

“No one needs to know!” she whined, stepping closer, holding back her smile as he relaxed and allowed it.

“Even if we manage to keep sneaking around,” he started, joining their foreheads, “someone will one day find out. Your lord father will eventually find you a husband.”

“Pretty sure no one will question it considering my love for horseback riding.”

She felt him relax even more, feeling triumph fill her at the victory: at least this point of the argument was pacified. She slid her hand down his torso, but he caught it just as she reached the edge of his trousers.

“There is no coming back from this, Arya.”

“I know.” She looked up and they exchanged a meaningful look.

Finally, he pulled her into their wildest kiss yet and she felt the thrill overtake her. His resistance was gone.

“You shouldn’t have provoked me,” he warned.

He pushed her back on the cot, kissing down her neck and making her moan with the pleasure flooding her veins.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned forced himself to stand still as a statue, refusing to let a leg twitch or give out any other emotion. First, Cersei Lannister was on her way to King's Landing without warning or announcement and now Jaime Lannister asked for an audience. It didn’t bode well. Jory led the Kingsguard inside and closed the door behind himself.

“I confess I am curious with your request, Ser Jaime,” Ned said once the silence stretched. “I thought that after your report you would be eager to return to Dragonstone. But instead you’ve told your ship you’re staying longer and did not give a departure date. I wonder why that is.”

“I…” Jaime cleared his throat. “I heard something in town.”

“You heard something in town.” Ned turned from the window and sat back at his desk. “Something about your sister perhaps.”

“Cersei is in Casterly Rock,” Jaime said, frowning. Ned raised an eyebrow, but saw the sincerity on the other’s face.

“So what did you hear, then, that would make you give up your travel plans and stay longer? Leaving the Prince and Princess alone in Dragonstone I might add.”

“I daresay Lord Stannis is the one most interested in not seeing harm befall his niece and nephew. I needed to… I needed to check the rumour I heard. And once I checked and rechecked, I needed to figure out a way to tell you.”

Ned was getting anxious now. Jaime Lannister had heard a rumour that had scared him into not going back to his remaining children and staying in town to verify it, as well as go to a man that was certainly no friend to report it.

“You have my attention, Ser Jaime. Speak.”

The knight took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. He thought about writing to his father — since Tywin knew about his reason for killing Aerys — but even if he would come back to King's Landing to deal with it, he would take at least three moon turns to arrive and would have to deal with Robert’s discontent once he did. Therefore, Jaime had realised with no small amount of dread, he was left with the option of trusting Ned Stark.

“Wildfire.”

Ned stiffened. “What about wildfire?”

“It’s being produced again. The Guild is hiring a lot of people and they are producing it in large quantities. I don’t know how or… I thought I had stopped it, I thought I had…”

“Wait a moment,” Ned said, raising a hand. “One thing at a time. You heard the Guild is producing it and that’s the rumour that kept you in town?”

“Yes. I stood watch by the Guild Hall for two days: at least twenty different workers come and go every day and food is delivered for about forty people.”

Ned exhaled, sitting back on his chair. “You’re sure?” he asked and Jaime nodded. “I’ll send the City Watch—”

“No! You can’t tell them! You don’t understand, they…” Jaime took a deep breath and exhaled. “The day of the Sack, when you got to the throne room… we both know what you saw,” the knight went on and Ned frowned, confused with the change in topic. “I killed Aerys Targaryen. I know that, you know that, everyone knows that. What you don’t know is _why_.”

“Tell me,” Ned said, a heavy feeling sinking his stomach.

“My father lied his way through the gates. The City Watch let the Lannister army through because my father said he was here to join the Royalists. But once the sacking begun… when word made it to the Red Keep, the Mad King issued two orders: I was to go and bring him my father’s head while his Hand, the pyromancer Rossart, was to go and send word to ignite the caches. _Wildfire caches_.” Jaime sighed, not surprised that Ned was horrified. “I was frozen in place as the Mad King laughed and waxed on about his plan: caches hidden bellow the Sept of Baelor, the Dragonpit, the Red Keep itself, gods know where else. He would burn the entire city before the rebels took it. Rossart laughed, saying not one stone would be left standing. So I killed him. Rossart first and then Aerys. The order to blow up the city never left the throne room. In the days after I tracked down the other two senior members of the Guild and killed them as well, hoping the secret would die with them. It seems I was wrong.”

Ned actually felt his chin fall open in shock. But, as terrible as it was, the story was so fantastic, so… what cause would Jaime Lannister have to make up such a tale?

“Why did you never tell anyone?!” he asked and Jaime snorted.

“Panic. My father said the capital was finally secure, that things were finally stable, and this would only make people panic. He said he would destroy the remaining caches and no one would be the wiser. He hoped my… he always hated that I had become a Kingsguard. Honestly, I later found out the Mad King didn’t do it for my skill, but I was where I always wanted to be. My father hoped that, by killing the Mad King, Robert would be grateful to reward me or at least not trust me to guard him and like that I would be excused from the brotherhood. But I chose to stay and by then it was too late to change the story. But that is why you can’t send the City Watch there, because they will find the new caches and the city will rise in panic.”

Ned took a moment to think. “The Mad King’s caches. Were they destroyed?”

“My father said—”

“I'm not asking what Tywin Lannister said,” Ned cut in, “I'm asking whether or not they were destroyed.”

Jaime clenched his jaws, but knew this matter was too important for family loyalty.

“My father said he would see them destroyed. I did not question further. I did not see them destroyed and he never confirmed they had been. He said he would take care of it and I never asked again.”

“So it’s possible they’re still underneath us right now.”

“Why would the Guild be making more if the old ones were still here?”

“More destruction,” Ned said, though he had to admit something did _not_ make sense. If the Lannisters were plotting to use the wildfire, why would Cersei be on her way— unless she wasn’t coming to King's Landing. The little bird had brought the news she was travelling down the Goldroad and they had assumed she was on her way to the capital. But she might very well be ready to set a siege while someone blew up the city. “Why come to me, though?” Ned asked.

“Whatever our issues, Lord Stark, I do believe you will do the right thing for the city.”

“This rumour you heard,” Ned continued, “where did you hear it? Who hired the Guild?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t have the means to find out.”

“So in the end you could be lying to me,” Ned said.

“To what end?” Jaime was outraged. “All I wanted was to stay in Dragonstone, in peace, but I had to come here to give a report any messenger could bring only for the sake of appearances. Do you really think I wanted to spend one more day in this gods forsaken castle?”

“Forgive me if I find it odd that you would come to me with this, Ser Jaime! But I find it harder and harder to trust any Lannisters!”

Jaime snorted, furious. “You think it was easy, deciding to come to you, to trust you? We might not be in open war, but don’t think I don’t know our families are as close to enemies as we can be out of a battlefield. But go on, send your men to investigate or ignore me, do as you will. I will be in town for two more days if you feel like realising I'm right.”

With that he burst out of the room. Ned looked over to the rug in front of the fireplace, from where Silver was looking at him with clear disapproval.

“Don’t make that face,” he grumbled. “I don’t trust him!”

The direwolf stretched and stood, crossing the solar and scratching the door, waiting patiently to be let out. Ned sighed.

“Jory,” he called. “Gather the men. It seems we have an uncomfortable hunting mission to undertake.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

When Dany woke up, she was no longer feeling the chills of fever or the nausea that had followed her for weeks. She frowned, taking stock of the room around her. They were not in the inn, that was certain. She was lying in a large four-poster bed with red silk sheets and a red canopy and was wearing a very comfortable red silk nightgown.

“Your Grace, you’re awake!” Missandei said, standing from the armchair by the fireplace.

“Where are we?” Dany asked.

“In the Red Temple, Your Grace. The Archmaester convinced Captain Mero to bring you in for treatment, especially once you passed out. The healers here tended to you, overseen by the Archmaester. Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” Dany said. “Much better. How long was I asleep?”

“Only the day, Your Grace. It’s sunset now.” Missandei pointed out the window.

Dany was thrilled she was feeling better, of course, though she was curious as to what potions these healers had used to get her this much better so quickly. The door opened and Archmaester Marwyn and a tall woman came in, followed by a servant, who dropped a tray next to the bed and left quietly. The woman wore a red dress and a familiar necklace, both nearly identical to Melisandre’s.

“You're a Red Priestess,” Dany said.

“My name is Kinvara, my queen, and I am the High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and First Servant of the Lord of Light.”

“And I am no queen,” Dany said, throwing her legs off the bed and accepting gladly the silk robe Missandei offered. Her legs were still a bit unsure, but Dany stood anyway.

Marwyn bit his lip, uncomfortable. He happened to know that, if Robert Baratheon was taken from the throne, Daenerys was queen by rights of marriage. Though he didn’t feel like making such a revelation, not when they had been told Jon Starling was dead. Because if he was and the children with him… then Daenerys was queen by right of birth. Unless, of course, her brother suddenly appeared. But Kinvara smiled as if she was aware of a little secret.

“Perhaps you don’t know yet, my queen, but you are. You are the one the Lord promised us. You are his chosen one.”

“That is odd,” Dany said with a snort. “One of your fellow Priestesses, Lady Melisandre, has been my guest for a few years now, and she claims my husband is such a man. The Prince Who Was Promised by R’hllor in an ancient prophecy.”

“Melisandre said she was drawn to the Blessed Island by visions in the flames. We interpreted it as Lord Starling after the Lord of Light graced him with a second life. But now… you are the last Targaryen, my queen. The blood of dragons runs through your veins. And dragons are fire made flesh. Who else would be the Lord’s Promised One but the one who has fire in her veins?”

“I thought the prophecy spoke of a promised _prince_ ,” Dany said. “As you can see, I am no prince. And you happen to be calling me queen.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Missandei cut in, “but that word in Valyrian has no gender.”

Dany turned to her. “What?”

“Dārilaros kivio iksin,” Missandei said. “‘Dārilaros’ might translate as either ‘prince’ or princess’, Your Grace. Differently than the words for queen and king, which are discerning by gender: dāria is queen and dārys is king. So the most accurate translation would be ‘the prince or princess who was promised’.”

“Aemon spoke of this,” Marwyn said. “When Rhaegar fell, he did wonder about the mistranslation, because as far as he knew, you were the last Targaryen.” _And_ , he thought, _it adds to his theory that Rhaegar was the Promised Prince, because he never became king._

“My uncle knows about this?” Dany asked and Marwyn nodded.

“You see, my queen, everything in the world seeks balance,” Kinvara said. “For every birth, there is one death, for every cry there is one joy, and so on. R’hllor, the Lord of Light, is the power of the flames, the fire god. But even he, powerful as he is, has a foil. The Great Other, or, as the Free Folk call him, the Night King, the one whose powers come from ice and shadows.”

“Who is he?” Dany asked.

“His name cannot be spoken, such is his evilness.”

“That seems silly,” Dany said. “If I am too busy trembling at the sound of a name, I am not thinking on how to defeat him.”

“Your words are wise, my queen,” the Red Priestess was smiling, “but when dealing with magic, the mere utterance of a name might be an invocation. I do not know what sent the Great Other into slumber, so many thousands of years ago, but I know he was prophesied to return. To defeat him, the Lord of Light promised a prince — or a princess, as it turns out.”

“Born amidst salt and smoke, yes, so Melisandre told us,” Dany said.

“Exactly,” Kinvara said. “And the Chosen One will forge the flaming sword Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and raise dragons from stone.”

“Azor Ahai, this is one of the Chosen One’s name,” Marwyn said. “And this person — prince or princess — was prophesied to forge the sword by tempering it, like the first time, in the blood of his wife Nissa Nissa.”

Dany looked sharply at him. “At the Wall, Melisandre named Lord Starling this Chosen One,” she said slowly. “And you said my uncle believes this prophecy?” She wasn’t sure she could deal with such betrayal. But Marwyn only smiled.

“Not so literally, Your Grace. He believes… in a symbolic interpretation.”

“The Archmaester shared what the sellswords spoke of your husband and other children, my queen,” Kinvara said. “The flames do not show me the Midnight Fortress, so I cannot confirm nor deny their claims. But I can confirm that you are not the last Targaryen — Maester Aemon notwithstanding.”

“You mean my brother Viserys?”

“I mean the child in your belly,” the Red Priestess revealed.

Dany gasped, wrapping both hands protectively around her middle. “Are you certain?”

As the Red Priestess nodded, Marwyn thought about the mess they were in. Now that Daenerys was pregnant, she was no longer Queen Regnant, couldn’t be. If the Midnight Fortress had fallen, then she was Dowager Queen, Regent for her unborn child, the King’s child. But if Jon had survived… he decided to keep this little secret a while longer. At least until he knew more about where they were being taken and why.

“My lady, you just said your Lord chose me,” Dany said. “Does that mean you will aid me? Help me get away from my captors?”

“I will aid you, Daenerys Stormborn,” the Red Priestess smiled. “But not, I’m afraid, in the way you would like me to. The midwives discovered the reason for your sickness, an imbalance due to your pregnancy. It’s rare, but they have a tonic that should allow your stomach to settle now. Thus, you will grow stronger.”

“I had never felt this before. And this is my fourth pregnancy.”

“The first one in which you were aboard choppy seas for so long, I'm sure. That weighed the odds against you. But the point is that the flames are unanimous. Your destiny is not in Volantis, my queen. You must go on.”

“I can go on by returning to Westeros.”

“I'm quite certain that will happen at some point,” Kinvara said. “But the flames show me you going elsewhere first.”

“I tire of this, my lady,” Daenerys said. “Will you help me or not?”

Kinvara brought a vial out of her pockets. “When all seems lost, drink this. Only strong children and strong women benefit from it, but you do not strike me as weak. Your babe is as safe as I can make it, my queen. But I'm afraid I cannot release you. Not only doing as much would come at a great cost for me and my Temple, but the sellswords are holding a lot of people as hostages until you are safely returned to them. Innocents: men, women, and children.”

Dany nodded, disappointed, but couldn’t hold it against the Red Priestess.

“Remember this now, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen: you are the fire — the daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons.” Kinvara smiled. “Now, if you would come with me, I know of someone who would perhaps render some assistance to you. He heard of you years ago and was curious enough to come and meet you.”

“If you would be kind enough to lend me a dress, my lady,” Dany said, a smile forming.

“We will wait for you in the corridor, my queen,” Kinvara said and she and the Archmaester were gone.

“Come, Your Grace,” Missandei called. “If you sit at the vanity, you can eat as I braid your hair. Then I’ll help you dress.”

Dany agreed, happy that the food consisted of a filling broth and soft bread, but nothing too heavy. Missandei pushed a large looking glass in front of her once she was dressed, and Dany couldn’t help but admire herself. If before wearing red would be a risk not worth taking, now the danger came from a different source, nothing as trifling or inconsequential as colours. The dress was also very different from her usual ones, following the Essosi style. It was deep red, like blood, from shoulder to shoulder, sleeveless, though with a circular opening on her upper chest, and at her hips, the skirts opened in a black silken pleat. She looked like a true Targaryen, proud of her House colours now.

Smiling, she left the room and followed Kinvara as she led them to a small meeting room. There were four men and a woman inside, and Dany recognised them immediately: Dothraki. She missed Irri more acutely now, though she was glad she wasn’t here: if she had been a Dothraki slave, it was better that she was nowhere near these people.

“Her Grace, Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen,” Missandei announced in Dothraki.

“This is Khal Drogo, son of Barbo,” the Dothraki girl announced in a shy voice and a very accented Common Tongue.

“Our hostess informed me you were curious to meet me,” Dany said in Dothraki, shocking everyone in the room. The khal smiled, though, his black eyes approving.

“Years ago, a pink man came to me to offer me his sister in exchange for my army to conquer his kingdoms,” Drogo said. “I said I would think of it when I saw the sister. But he said you were prisoner and rescuing you was part of the deal. Yes, I was curious.”

“My brother informed me of such plans. But I was already married. And I was never a prisoner.”

The men laughed, joking about the lying pink man. Drogo silenced them with a look after a moment. “Your husband lives?”

“I am married,” Dany insisted. “And I know khals are warlords.”

“I am,” Drogo said, pulling his braid before him. “Never lost a battle. But I don’t battle for nothing.”

Dany smiled. “I was taken from my home against my will. I don’t intend to let the men who took me get away with it.”

“You want my warriors to fight for you,” Drogo said. “We fight. But we fight for strength, not for gold.”

Missandei touched Dany’s arm and whispered into her ear in the Common Tongue, making Dany smile. The Dothraki girl shrugged, saying it was too far, and Dany understood she had been brought as a translator.

“I understand you are not sellswords. And I am not offering my possessions as payment. I am offering a fight and, if you have the strength to win, you may take the enemy’s possessions. That is the way of the Dothraki, is it not?” she asked in their tongue and they nodded. “The men who took me also looted mine and my husband’s stores. They have bags and bags of salt in their holds. Worth quite a lot of gold. Once I am free, I will claim one ship, with supplies and the men to sail it as a means to return home. You may claim the rest.”

“Dothraki don’t sail,” one of the warriors said. “Dothraki don’t want or need ships.”

“Ships are expensive,” Dany said. “I know because my husband and I own a few. In a city this big, you can sell it to profit and have a lot of gold in your hands.”

She stiffened, feeling movement at her back, and turned quickly, the dagger out and at the boy’s neck. She missed her old dagger, but Addam’s lessons remained even with this borrowed one. Missandei gasped, probably not even having noticed that Dany had picked it up from the vanity and hidden it in her dress. She pushed the blade against the boy’s neck, forcing him to kneel before her. Then one of the bloodriders came and pulled the boy away, breaking his neck in the process. The warriors were clearly impressed with her. She recognised the sellsword tattoo, though.

“My captors already suspect something,” Dany said. “You don’t have long to decide.”

Drogo looked at her and Dany saw his black eyes evaluating her. She was beautiful, poised, elegant, proud, and she had proven strength.

“My men will fight for you, Khaleesi of the West.”

Dany smiled. “I prefer to think of it as two friends helping each other. You will have your fight and your gold and I get to go home.”

Drogo nodded and smiled.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!
> 
> As some of you asked for a reference table, I've added one here as an extra part -- it's Part 7 of the series, or you can find it in this link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17683721/chapters/41711132
> 
> If anyone finds any mistakes, please point it out :)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are my fuel and, as next chapter is shaping up to be so huge, I'm gonna need a lot of fuel this week xD


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany faces a battle while Jon faces a overwhelming discovery.

The midwives in the Red Temple gave Dany a supply of the tonic, which she should drink every morning before getting up and during the day if need be. They also taught the recipe to an eager Missandei and Archmaester Marwyn, who wrote down every word. Dany smiled, thinking she would ask him to make a copy she could give to Ayla. Her smile faded and she felt pain piercing her heart at the thought. But wishful thinking would get her nowhere. Doreah had seen the aftermath of the attack. Dany might not trust the sellswords, but she trusted her handmaiden.

“A parting gift,” Kinvara said, pointing to a small trunk two sellswords were glowering at. Probably because they would be the ones to carry it back. “It’s not much, but a queen must dress appropriately.” She was speaking the Common Tongue, since Dany was keeping the ruse of not speaking Valyrian.

“Thank you, my lady. For all you have done for me.”

The High Priestess smiled. “It was my pleasure, ñuha dāria.” Then her smile vanished. “And I have a last warning, Your Grace. About your dragon eggs.”

“I know.” Dany sighed. “The eons have turned them to stone. But they are not stone, they are alive. I know it.”

“I wonder how many eons are there in two hundred years.” Kinvara smiled again. “Those eggs were laid by Dreamfyre and stolen from Dragonstone by Rhaena Targaryen’s lover to be sold in Braavos. They are Targaryen dragons and will be hatched by a Targaryen for Targaryen riders. But it comes with a caveat, my queen. They have resisted death. But only death can pay for life. It is the way of the world.”

Dany shivered, the warning settling ominous and dangerous. But, finally, she nodded and the Priestess stepped back.

“Now you look like a princess,” Daario said, looking her over. “Nice dress.” She looked at the flower he offered with disdain and a raised brow. “It’s a dusk rose, Your Grace. No match for your beauty, but—”

“I pity the whores and the poor tavern wenches who have to suffer through your wooing, Daario Naharis,” Dany said. “You’re very patronising and not at all flattering.” She started walking out the door, forcing herself to ignore Missandei’s mirth.

“I just thought a recently widowed woman—”

Dany whirled around and slapped his face, making the other sellswords snort and laugh. Missandei was looking down, too frightened to laugh, but the Archmaester didn’t bother hiding his chuckle. Daario was unhappy, but she saw something shift in his eyes.

“Speak of my lord husband again and I will find a way to have your tongue.” She started down the entrance again, but the sellsword lieutenant rushed to keep pace.

“I thought you liked blue roses! A taste of home perhaps?”

Dany snorted and looked down at the flower he offered again. It was pretty, it was true, but it was no winter rose. This one looked like it would wilt at the first whiff of a chilly wind, like it could not withstand any hardship. It was weak and delicate and made for a pathetic replacement. They were about to join the main road to return to the inn when Dany felt someone pull her arm. The sellswords pulled out their blades, but Daario held them back. Dany was startled. The woman before her was all hidden, though her eyes were wet and shiny behind her red lacquered wooden mask.

“Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen,” she greeted, her voice muffled behind the odd mask.

“Who are you?”

“I am Quaithe of the Shadow, and I have a riddle you will not like.”

“Stay back, shadowbinder,” Daario said. “We have no need for your riddles.”

“Quiet,” Dany said. She disliked riddles, but she wanted to hear it only to needle the man. “Speak, Quaithe. It must be of importance or you would not have searched for me.”

Dany couldn’t tell, but she was nearly certain the woman smiled beneath her mask.

“Heed this warning, Daenerys Stormborn: to go north, you must journey south, to reach the west you must go east. To go forward you must go back and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.”

Dany shivered. _To go west you must go east_. Was it an omen that the Dothraki would fail her tomorrow? “What do you mean?” she asked and now she was sure the other woman was grinning beneath the red lacquer.

“You will understand in time.” And with that, Quaithe let go of Dany’s arm and lost herself in the crowded street.

“Let’s get out of here,” Daario said, upset, sheathing his arakh. “Before someone else brings us more bloody riddles.”

“Well, well,” Mero started once they were back in the inn, “look who is all fancy now. I have to say, you actually do look the part now and not some back-alley whore anymore.”

“If I ever looked like a ‘back-alley whore’,” Dany sneered, “it was only due to your incompetence. You were, after all, more concerned with stealing a whore than a decent dress.”

“You know, I much preferred when you didn’t talk back,” Mero said.

“And I much preferred to be home. It seems we are both left unhappy.”

The captain bristled. “You know, I could rip that fancy dress off you and teach you some manners.”

“You could try,” Dany said. “But you and your men have been calling me ‘princess’ since you took me, what means you know how much I’m worth. If you rape me, I'm quite certain your patron will be displeased.”

“Get her out of my sight,” Mero said.

“Doreah, come,” Dany called.

“My whore,” the Titan’s bastard said. “She stays.”

“My handmaiden, pilfered from my castle. She is coming with me.”

“We’re in Volantis, Mero,” Daario said. “Let it go.”

Dany pulled Doreah and Missandei and climbed the steps to the room she was staying in. She was too worried about unfriendly ears to tell the Lysene woman about her plan, but it would be enough to keep Doreah close and then they would all be safe. As safe as one could be when all seven hells broke loose.

But nerves made Dany sleep fitfully, despite of the chair they had placed in front of the door. She was shaken awake by Missandei, who offered her the tonic, which Dany downed thankfully, though she wondered how much of her nausea this morning was due to the situation rather than her babe. Doreah brought a breakfast tray into the room as Missandei begun brushing out Dany’s hair.

“The Archmaester put it together for you, my lady. He said he helped the cook and didn’t allow any strong spices.”

“Thank you,” Dany said, though her stomach was in knots. But it was more than just her now. So, pushing away the pain at the reminder that she would never be able to tell Jon they were having another child, that Aunt Ayla would never nag her about eating healthy for the baby, Dany forced herself to swallow down an entire toast and half the eggs.

“Will you wear the dress from yesterday, Your Grace?” Missandei asked once her hair was done.

“I will wear black,” Dany stated.

“My lady…” Doreah started.

“I am a woman in mourning. I will wear black.”

Both handmaidens only lowered their heads, not finding anything to say in response. The sky was still dark when the men came to escort them to the ships, but Dany had known they wanted to take advantage of the first tide. The walk to the harbour, though short, was terrible on Dany’s nerves and at one point she squeezed Missandei’s hand, comforted when she squeezed back. She gasped, startled when Daario pushed Doreah out of the way and took her place.

“I have to admit, if you were a man, I would say you got some balls.”

Dany groaned, scoffing. “You really are terribly rude.”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, I'm not used to dealing with royalty. What I meant is that making a deal with the Dothraki is certainly a bold choice.”

She felt cold sink her stomach. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t bother. I heard you yesterday at the Red Temple — for someone who can’t understand Valyrian, you certainly picked up Dothraki nicely.”

“My other handmaiden was Dothraki,” Dany said, thinking to buy time. “Robert Baratheon forbade me from learning Valyrian.”

“Petty decision from a weak man, if you ask me. Learning the language wouldn’t have made you any more or less inclined to rise in rebellion. But that is not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“I happen to think that Mero is a fool wanting too much. You know, he still believes your brother is going to pay him your weight in gold. And he’ll get to keep all the ships and the money from everything.”

“So my brother is behind this?” Dany snorted. “He has certainly grown bold. And found powerful friends. Because I doubt a prince exiled from his home over twenty years ago has that much gold lying around.”

“I’ll tell you who his friends are and where he is later. Right now, we need to worry about keeping you and your friendly handmaidens safe when the Dothraki come.”

“What are you doing?” Dany asked.

“I told you, Mero is a fool,” Daario said. “If we do deliver you to your brother, we’re still not getting the gold, I know his sort. Besides, considering what I’ve seen from you, I know _your_ sort: you’re gonna get free eventually and trample everyone standing in your way. I’d rather not be one of them. I’d rather be on your side.”

“What do you want?” Dany asked, though she was extremely suspicious. “Other than your life, obviously.”

“Gold. But not gold for a few months. I won't be snobby and ask for my weight in gold, but it seems to me that, sooner rather than later, you will get somewhere in which you will be in a position to give me a nice manse filled with servants and land to sustain me.”

“You want to retire?” Dany asked, highly amused.

“Eventually, yes. I suppose one day I may grow tired, though I confess I don’t suppose it will be any time soon. But my deeper reason is you.”

“Oh, by the Old Gods, if you try to seduce me, I’ll geld you myself!”

“My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours. My blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. I live and die at your command, fair queen,” he intoned.

“I was being serious,” she said, her patience short.

“Very well, I won't seduce you. But I do swear you my sword,” he said with a charming smile and Dany nearly flinched, remembering Addam and how much she missed him.

“Fine,” she said, gathering her thoughts. _I can't look back. I have to get free. Thinking of the past will only get me and my child killed. If I look back I am lost_. “Fight for me, Daario Naharis, and you will have your gold and your manse. Betray me and you will wish you had never met my brother.”

She kept on walking, squeezing Missandei’s hand ever stronger. The sun broke the horizon and reflected off her hair just as they arrived at the harbour and Dany felt fear grip her heart. She needed to stall for time. She needed to delay their departure until the Dothraki arrived. If she stepped on the boat…

But then the first scream came, and the second, and then all. Galloping hooves joined the war cries and the sellswords cursed, bringing out their blades. Mero was furious and pulled Dany by the arm, dragging her a few steps to his second in command.

“Get her into a boat and aboard the ship and set sail. I’ll kill the bastards,” he bit out.

Prendahl nodded, taking Dany’s arm from the captain, and started shouting out orders, but she took her chance. She pulled the dagger out again and brought it down on him. She missed any vital parts by a lot, managing only to bury it in his forearm, but she had been in a terrible position. The shock, though, made the sellsword let her arm go and she pulled away, getting free. As the other sellswords stepped menacingly in her direction, Daario jumped in front of her, moving so swiftly that, when Dany realised, Prendahl na Ghezn had already fallen, his head severed from his body.

“Now, now, boys. Are you gonna fight _me_ or _with me_?” Daario asked. Dany held her breath, but let it go when most of the sellswords immediately joined the Tyroshi. “Time to go Princess. Let’s get you and your girls into one of the ships and—”

The Dothraki came to where they were and Daario started fighting back.

“Stop!” Dany called and the horse lord hesitated. “Not him. Kill the others, but not him.”

“Yes, Khaleesi,” the man said and stepped back, however displeased.

But chaos had erupted. The Dothraki had first targeted the boats and the men in it, so they were cut off that escape. The Volantene were closing the city gates to the harbour, so Dany doubted they could run back to get lost into the city. She put her dagger back, aware it would do her little good, and clung onto Missandei and Doreah, stepping back from where the men were brawling, a mess of blood, death, and horses.

“My lady, we have to go!” Doreah cried, frightened. She didn’t speak Dothraki, she hadn’t understood what Dany had said, she was just confused.

“It’s alright, Doreah, it’s alright,” Dany said. “We just need to stay out of the way until the Dothraki kill Mero and his men.”

The handmaiden was shocked. She held tighter to Dany, knowing it would be safer for her to stay than let whichever group won take her. She should have foiled the sellswords’ plans. She should have found a way to make sure the guards would stop the kidnapping. She had been naïve, stupid, thinking the King would reward her, allow her to continue being a handmaiden to Daenerys, but instead she had been turned back into a whore. Viserys didn’t care for loyalty. Daenerys did. Doreah had trusted the wrong sibling and now she was paying the price.

“Keep them safe!” Daario commanded the three sellswords nearby. Then he went away calling the others, visibly taking charge.

The fight changed then. No longer were there two sides, one against the other, but rather one of these sides had split and the in-fighting was giving the Dothraki a gigantic advantage. Mero noticed as much, fury welling inside as he realised his own men were betraying him, and he saw that there would be no way to win this. So he abandoned his fight with one of the horse lords, calling for the men still loyal, and fought his way to where Daenerys was staying back. The three traitors put up a fight and, truly, he couldn’t get past all three of them. But then reinforcements came and Mero smiled.

“Surrender, Princess, or I will kill him,” Mero said, pointing his bloody sword to Archmaester Marwyn, held by one of his men.

“No!” Dany called. “He has nothing to do with this!”

“Then surrender. Come like a good little princess and get into my ship and I will not hurt him.”

Dany wanted to cry. But she knew she couldn’t let an innocent die because of a hasty and dangerous plan she had concocted.

“No, Your Grace!” Marwyn exclaimed. “Don’t! I matter nothing!”

“That is not true, Archmaester.”

“You are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the Princess Who Was Promised. You’re young and you can do so much good. I’ve lived my old life and—”

“Silence!” Mero exclaimed. “Step into the boat or I will slit his throat right now.”

Doreah screamed. Another of Mero’s men used the distraction and pulled her away from Dany, his blade to her throat.

“I ain’t shy about killing people, Princess. And I ain’t patient.”

Dany exhaled, but stepped forward to surrender. But then everything changed again. Drogo came in their direction and started fighting the men surrounding Mero, who realised it was now or never. He called his men and ran away to one of the boats sent hurriedly from the ship. He pushed the Archmaester and Doreah inside it and ordered the push off.

“No!” Dany called, running to the edge of the pier. “Go after them!”

“Your brother will pay me for the eggs, Princess!” Mero called from the distancing boat. “If you want your pets back, the traitor knows where to find us!”

In total, five boats rescued Mero’s loyal men as a few others swum to the ship, which quickly departed. Dany watched them raise anchor with fire burning in her veins. Suddenly, the Dothraki begun yelling, Drogo took two steps back, and the remaining sellswords gasped.

“Your Grace?” Missandei called and through her fury Dany heard the question and the fear and the awe in her voice.

She looked at her hand and saw what had the others shocked. Without noticing, Dany had leaned on the harbour cresset, clutching its burning metal edges in her small delicate hands. _Dothraki only respect strength_ , she thought. Emboldened, she dipped her hand in the oil fuelling the cresset, spreading it as far as her elbow. As she pulled it out, her forearm bathed in flames, she was quite sure she was drawing the eye of everyone in the harbour.

“Your enemy has fled,” she yelled in Dothraki. “He ran away like a coward. He has no braid because he deserves no braid. He is weak, but he fled with a handful of your brothers. And I know you will say that your brothers lost their battles, but will you let a weak man escape?” The Dothraki reacted negatively. “Will you let your enemy escape with your treasure before the fight is over?” she baited again and the yells of denial rose. “Will you let a weak pink man shame you because he lost but he ran undefeated?”

“No, Khaleesi!” they yelled.

“He was my enemy and Khal Drogo fought him because I am a friend. But today he is _our_ enemy! And I say we bring our enemy down! We defeat him!” She lifted her burning arm. “With fire and blood!”

“Fire and blood!”

“Khaleesi!”

Dany smiled, feeling the surge of power. “I am a dragon! I am the fire! I say we go after our enemy and we bring him down! Who is with me?” The men lifted their arakhs in triumph, yelling her name. Her smile grew as Drogo stepped forward and offered her his arakh in a show of loyalty. “No,” Dany said when he moved to kneel. “I did not triumph over you in battle. I did not fight you.”

“Dothraki respect strength, Khaleesi. You are the strongest. I pledge my arakh to you. My men are your men.”

“I thank you. But you are a Khal. You can still ride. And a friend does not steal a friend’s men. Ride with me to defeat this enemy, that is my request as your friend.”

“I ride with you, Khaleesi,” Drogo said. “We ride with the Silver Khaleesi!” he announced to the men. “We ride with her, like no Dothraki ever did, in her wooden horses, because her strength is our strength! We defeat our enemies! We kill the pink man who would shame us!”

The men were incensed now. Dany smiled as Drogo kept on prompting them, making their dreams of battle and blood and glory grow.

“Nice trick,” Daario said, coming up to Daenerys, offering her an old rag she used to put out the fire and then Missandei took it to clean away the oil.

“How many men do you have, captain?” Dany asked.

“Straight down to business, I see. You know, you could—”

“How many men, Daario Naharis?” Dany asked again.

“Rough count, about thirty. We’ve got more in the rest of the ships and the other ship captains are either here or dead.”

“Do we have enough to sail the remaining ships?” she asked, looking over the harbour and the ships stationed there.

“Is it we already?”

“I thought you swore to fight for me, Daario Naharis. Have you changed your mind?”

The sellsword rolled his eyes. “We do have enough men to sail the ships, provided you have indeed convinced the Dothraki to sail with us and be muscle. Otherwise, we put the rest of the men in two or three boats and sell the others.”

“Make sure the ships are ready for departure,” Dany said. “We’ve lost the morning tide, but we won't sleep in Volantis again.”

“Are you really going to just give up coming home?”

“He stole two hostages and my dragons. I will have them back. Besides, I feel like having words with my brother.”

“You certainly are unpredictable, Princess.”

“Queen,” Dany said. “Viserys might be older and a man, but he murdered my husband and my children. He will not sit on the Iron Throne. He won’t be alive long enough to even arrive in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Revenge is a dark feeling for such a lovely beauty,” Daario said with a smile that faltered with her glare.

“He is guilty of kidnapping and murder. The penalty for such is death. I might want revenge, but I will have justice. Where is he?”

“Meereen,” Daario revealed. “In Slaver’s Bay. He is being funded by the slave masters. I don’t know what he’s promised them in return, but…”

“Permission for slavery in Westeros and the dragon eggs, most likely,” Dany said.

“Your Grace?” Kinvara called.

“Prepare our departure, Daario,” Dany commanded. “My lady.”

“My queen, I'm sorry about this.”

“It happened,” Dany said. _To go west I must go east_. “If I might ask one more favour of you, my lady…”

“In the flames, I see ships in search of you, my queen,” Kinvara said. “I know not whether they will arrive in a day or a fortnight, but they _will_ arrive. I shall tell them where you have gone.”

“Thank you, my lady. For everything.”

“You were sent by my Lord, Your Grace. I must serve you for you are his chosen.”

Dany smiled, uncomfortable. Then the Red Priestess left and she turned her attention to the preparation of their chase.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jaime was half-surprised, half-relieved when Ned summoned him. He had hoped the Honourable Lord Stark would not be able to resist protecting the innocent citizens of King's Landing, but he had had his hopes crushed before. More than once.

“We found wildfire deep below the castle,” Ned said once they were sitting in his solar. He had deep circles under his eyes and looked very troubled.

“This one particular time I don’t mind saying I hoped to be wrong,” Jaime said.

Ned sat back on his chair and exhaled deeply. “How can we destroy it?”

“I don’t know,” the knight was equally weary. “But one of the pyromancers, twenty years ago, he said that while he didn’t have the skill to disarm it, wildfire burns under water, so tossing it all into Blackwater Bay won’t solve our problems.”

“We can’t very well leave it here! If someone is financing the Guild, it’s because someone intends to use it. We don’t have the men to guard every single spot that might hold wildfire, not in enough numbers to stop a suicidal maniac at least. We can’t trust the Citadel, not that the maesters would know…”

“Why can’t we trust the Citadel?”

“They’re enemies of the Guild of Alchemists, everyone knows that,” Ella said, bringing tea to the room. She threw a censuring look at her husband, who looked sheepish. For a politician, he was still a very shitty liar. “You could ask… _Castle Black_ ,” she said pointedly. “Lord Tarly said they did have very unique books.”

“If you mean the Targaryen maester at the Wall, you needn’t worry, Lady Stark,” Jaime smiled, taking his tea cup and enjoying the warmth. “Robert doesn’t read enough to care about a bookworm across the continent.”

“I’ll leave you to talk,” Ella said, leaving quickly.

“My father would have asked the pyromancers here, but he wouldn’t have put money and effort bringing people from Essos. As far as he was concerned only two people knew about it: me and him.”

Ned nodded. He almost brought up the fact that, if only Tywin Lannister knew about it, then it was obvious who the culprit was, but decided that the argument would not be worth it. Besides, it would keep them from the real task at hand, to be arguing over family enmities.

“Lord Varys is watching the Guild, trying to learn anything he can about them,” Ned said. “I’ll send ravens out to Castle Black, Winterfell, and the Midnight Fortress, because I trust the maesters and, as you said, the bookworms there.”

“If you think researching the Royal library would be a good pastime for the two of us…”

“That would be a stupid decision,” Ned scoffed. “Pycelle would be suspicious in less time than it took us to cross the threshold, not to mention that being seen above ground as working together will draw the wrong kind of attention.”

“I also don’t mind saying that I won't enjoy what we’ll be doing below ground much.”

“No, I don’t suspect it will be a fun hunt,” Ned said.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon was quite sick of the heat. After much nagging from Addam (who wasn’t shy about invoking his sister’s and Ayla’s names) and even a polite nudge from Davos about water consumption, he gave in and took off a few layers of his clothing, most importantly the fur cloak. It felt different, too light, but still stuffy. They had barely made it off the boat in the harbour when a man approached them.

“Greetings, kind sers. I have a message for you.”

“Who are you?” Jon asked. “And how do you know who we are?”

“I am Benerro, a Red Priest, and I come on the request of Kinvara, High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, and First Servant of the Lord of Light. She saw your banners and she deeply hopes for a meeting with Lord Jon Starling. If not, anyone seeking to aid Queen Daenerys will be welcome in our temple.”

“She was here? You saw Lady Starling?” Jon was frantic.

“We had the pleasure of hosting her and treating her illness. The Lady Kinvara has a message from Queen Daenerys.”

“She was sick? What did she have? Was it serious? Is she healed?” Jon was feeling his heart squeezing painfully. This was the first they had heard of Daenerys since he had last seen her in their bedchamber. It had been so long that the days were getting blurry now.

“The Flame of Truth will tell you, my lord,” Benerro opened his arm and motioned towards the city gates.

“What if it is a—?” Addam started.

“Melisandre saved my life. I trust them,” Jon said. “Besides, message or no message, they have more information than tracking salt at the market.”

Addam relented, however contrary he was to the idea. Jon told Arya to stay put while Davos and the men went to canvas the market. Sarella, wearing another silly dress she had bought in Lys, vanished down the street to seek more information. Jon noticed nothing on the way to the impressive Red Temple, all his thoughts and worries focused on his wife.

“Lord Starling,” Kinvara greeted with a large smile. “I was hoping to meet you. I knew the Lord of Light hadn’t brought you back only to have you fall at the hands of ill-intentioned sellswords.”

“Daenerys,” Jon started in a shaky voice. “Your priest… she was here?”

“She was. She was told you and your children, your entire household as a matter of fact, were dead. I thought—”

“She was sick?” Jon cut in. He could soothe her worries later, her health was more important.

“Morning sickness,” Kinvara revealed. “For a woman kept in a ship for so long, your child is very strong.”

Jon felt his legs fail him and he staggered, leaning into the back of the sofa to keep standing. “She is pregnant?”

“She is. Barely showing, so still early days.”

“Where is she?!”

“She had to go,” Kinvara said. “She devised a clever plan to escape and an ally came searching for her. She got free. But the sellsword took the Archmaester, her handmaiden, and the three dragon eggs, so she—”

“Bloody stubborn woman!” Jon exclaimed, knowing she had gone to rescue them even before the Priestess said it. The Archmaester and Doreah because it was her responsibility, since he guessed they had been taken due to her plan to get free. But Dany would never let those bloody dragon eggs go. She didn’t even let them out of their chambers, claiming they called for her.

“I promised to send any search parties to her,” Kinvara said. “But regardless of what she believed, I convinced her to leave this.” The Red Priestess took a letter from the mantlepiece and Jon opened it with shaking hands. The envelope was addressed to him in Dany’s familiar handwriting.

 

_Dear Jon,_

_I confess I am devoid of hope. I remember seeing the castle burn, and so does the Archmaester. Besides, Doreah had a full account of the aftermath of the attack. The things she saw… the things she described… I know you are gone, but perhaps clinging to this minuscule strand of hope is what gives me strength to do what I must. I will rescue our friends, avenge you and our children, and deliver Northern justice to my brother. Maybe it will be kinslaying, but he took me from the North and he will see how the North finds his crimes. They were right Jon. I come from a family of monsters. Even so, I take solace in that our child, the one safely growing in my womb right now, has your blood, Stark blood, to drive the Targaryen madness away._

_Then I shall return west and take the Seven Kingdoms, my love. I know you hated that plan, but safety meant nothing in the end. I still lost you and our babies. I will take the Iron Throne because, thanks to my brother, I know what cruelty and backstabbing are. So I feel I have a duty to my people to help them, to drive the Lannisters away. I hate Robert Baratheon, I will always hate him, but now I pity him more than hate him. If he surrenders, I might even let him live, just for the kindness of giving you to me. He will drown in his own misery soon enough. And I will teach our child to be fair and honourable, like Father taught us. How I so deeply ~~regret~~ hope you will be able to._

_I have turned the lieutenant of the sellswords, the Second Sons, to my side and I have acquired the allegiance of the Dothraki. Some sail with us and the others march to Meereen. I will take the city and bring to justice every last one of the slavers that took you and the children from me. With fire and blood._

_I hope this reaches your hands. I deeply, truly do. Even though I know it will not. But I will hope anyway, however hopeless it might be. If you do get this, come find me in Meereen. We will be waiting for you._

_Love,_

_Dany_

 

“How far are we from Meereen?” Jon asked, shaking.

“Not too far, but not too close,” Kinvara said. “The voyage around the ruins of Valyria alone will take you nearly an entire moon turn.”

“But Lady Starling is taking the same route,” Addam said. “She is being stubborn and idealistic like her brother, Jon, but she got free. She isn’t being held prisoner by an evil sellsword anymore.”

“Ser Arthur is right,” Kinvara said and the knight rolled his eyes, cursing visions in the flames in his mind. “I am certain your ships will take at least overnight to load, my lord. I gladly offer accommodation to you and your officers.”

Jon was going through a maelstrom of emotions — glee that Dany was freed, exhilaration that she was pregnant, dread that she was rushing towards danger, and so much more he couldn’t even name — so he took several deep breaths before he was able to pull his thoughts in order.

“I thank you, my lady. You are most kind. We should be glad and honoured to be your guests.” He kissed her hand in courtesy and as soon as their skins touched, Kinvara gasped, squeezing Jon’s hand.

“You… but… how!”

Addam stiffened. Red Priests worshiped fire. What held more fire than a dragon? Could Kinvara be feeling the dragon blood in Jon?

“You have no idea,” she said in a whisper, touching his face to look straight into his eyes. “But this kind of power can only come from one thing.” She let his hand go and turned to a nearby brazier, studying the flames.

Jon was hesitant, but they had been living with Melisandre and her quirks for years now. “What do you see, my lady?”

“Unveiling,” Kinvara declared after a moment. “I see the unveiling of a truth long hidden. If you have the courage to hear of it.”

“Me?” Jon frowned. “I don’t know of any lies.” She smiled and threw a look at Arthur, who felt uncomfortable. “Addam?” Jon was even more confused. “He wouldn’t lie to me!”

“Not lie, perhaps,” Kinvara said. “But he knows something he hasn’t told you. Something you desperately seek to know.”

Jon took a step back. _I was with you when you were first put in your father’s arms_ , the knight had said so long ago. Aye, there was something Jon had nearly given up learning.

“Are you brave enough to find the truth, Jon Starling?” Kinvara asked.

“Aye,” Jon said. “I want to know. I _need_ to know.”

“Then follow me.”

Jon followed the High Priestess through the red corridors of the temple, all of them brightly illuminated by several torches and braziers, which only made the heat of Volantis even more uncomfortable. He knew he was being foolish, and Addam’s cursing behind him made it plenty clear. The High Priestess pushed a door open, ushered them into a small bright room, and then crossed it to rummage in the cupboard for a vial. Jon looked at the thing when she presented it: thick purple liquid.

“And this will…?” he asked.

“This will cause you to fall asleep and, in this enchanted sleep, your mind will summon a spirit. The spirit of a dead person. Whoever you choose, if they are willing, they will come,” Kinvara promised.

“If they are willing?”

“They are spirits, my lord. They come if they want, like people.”

“So if the spirit doesn’t want to come what happens?” Addam asked.

“Nothing,” the red woman replied. “Nothing happens and you have wasted your chance. It’s one chance, my lord. And only one.”

Jon understood. But there was only one dead person he wished to talk to. And if she didn’t come, it wouldn’t matter that the opportunity was wasted. He reached for the vial, but Addam held his arm back. The look on his face showed he knew exactly what Jon was thinking.

“I’m not going to stop you. You’re a grown man, and quite honestly, I think you should have bloody known for a long time now. However, I want you to remember one thing.”

Jon frowned. Addam was overprotective to say the least and if he was allowing something potentially dangerous was because he really thought it the risk worth it. “What?”

“Despite our differences, Ned Stark is your father. Whatever she tells you, he will always be your father.”

Jon frowned. “But…”

“You know I was with him when you were born. And that’s all you’re getting from me.”

And again, the damned secrecy. What in the seven bloody hells was so dangerous about his mother’s name? What was so grave that only a handful of people knew who she was and those who did were sworn to secrecy and refused to speak of it?

He knew Addam really would say nothing else, so he didn’t even try. He looked back to the Red Priestess. “How long after I fall asleep will she be there?”

The red woman smiled. “The magic is instantaneous, my lord. She’ll be there or she won’t be there. However, the closer she is, the more eager she is to see you. If she’s far, she’s closer to walking away.”

Jon swallowed dry and uncorked the vial. “Cheers,” he said, drinking the liquid all in one gulp. He felt the world shimmer and fade instantly and didn’t even have time to think that he should’ve at least sat down before he felt Addam’s strong arms supporting him and the real world faded away completely.

He experienced a moment of dread, wondering if she would come, how far— and then he was surprised by arms roping around his shoulders and a body colliding against his and squeezing him so tight that it was hard to breathe. _The closer she is, the more eager she is to see you._

He breathed deeply, tightening his arms around her and relaxing into her hug. From their embrace, he could see her hair was also dark brown, though her curls were more opened, more wavy than curly. When the hug broke and they stepped back to look at each other, Jon saw for the first time the face of his mother.

He had always wondered what she looked like. Was she blonde, brunette, red-headed? Were her eyes blue, green, brown, grey? He had imagined all sorts of combinations. What he had not, however, was imagine to be staring into a looking glass. She had a long face and grey eyes, just like him. Just like Father. Just like a Stark. She looked like Arya, or rather, Arya looked like her. But both Father and Addam had only ever compared Arya to one person. _Beautiful, and wilful, and dead before her time._ And if that weren’t enough, the crown of winter roses she wore would have been a dead give-away.

“You know who I am, son,” she said with a trembling voice, raising a hand to his cheek.

“Lyanna,” he whispered weakly, trying to make his thoughts coherent. “Lyanna Stark. But…”

_She would have loved you dearly,_ Ned had said the day they had first left Winterfell, standing by her statue in the crypts.

_She was kind, and graceful, and great. Oh, was she great. She would have been the greatest, if that man hadn’t stolen the greatness from her_ , Aunt Ayla had said when his baby daughter had been sick and he had needed consolation.

_You’re like your aunt, little wolf,_ Addam had taunted Arya as they sparred on the deck of the ship one day. _When we were bored of waiting out the madness pass, locked up in that Tower, she would come and spar, and she made me work for it._

_She… she died in childbed. I barely made it there on time. A maid put in you in my arms and then she begged me to keep you safe. She… she died saying how much she loved you,_ his father had told him.

Lyanna caressed his cheeks, tears running down her face. “I knew Robert would have you killed. They had sent word from King's Landing, of what had happened to Aegon and Rhaenys and Elia. I knew Rhaegar was dead. I felt my life slipping away and I was terrified of what was going to happen to you, even with the Kingsguard downstairs. Then Ned came. He promised he would protect you and I knew he would. The pack survives, always. You were safe, so I could die in peace.”

“I didn’t want you to die,” Jon mumbled, crying freely.

“I know, my pup, I know.” She smiled. “But some things we cannot help. I knew you were safe. That was all that mattered.”

And then his mind started working again. Lyanna wasn’t his aunt, she was his mother. But… but that meant Ned… he wasn’t his father. That was the… that was the thing. “Father lied. He isn't… he isn't my—”

“He will always be your father, love, because he loved and raised and protected you and nothing and no one can take it from either of you.”

“He is my uncle.”

_Your aunt, Lyanna Stark, she was betrothed to King Robert. But then Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped and raped her, and Robert Baratheon rose in rebellion._ Lyanna saw the cloud of comprehension pass over his face.

“And now you know who you are,” she said.

“Rhaegar… Rhaegar Targaryen was my father.”

“He was my husband and your father by birth. We would have loved you so much, Jon. But that chance was stolen from us.”

“Hus—husband? You were…”

“We were married, son. I understand why Ned called you Jon Snow, why later you became Lord Starling. I watched with a pained heart every time you cried because you were called a bastard. And all I wanted was to hug you and comfort you and tell you that you were never a bastard. You are a trueborn son, beloved, cherished, and anxiously expected.”

“I'm a Targaryen.”

Lyanna smiled. “Ayla once told you that I named you before I died. Would you like to hear it?” she asked and Jon nodded. “Your name is Aegon Targaryen.”

Jon blinked, trying to make sense of the mess his mind had become. “I'm the son of the fallen Prince of Dragonstone, is that what you’re telling me?”

“I'm telling you that Rhaegar died, but the line still went down through him. When Aerys died, people would have been in a tizzy, but you were born a son. You were born Aegon Targaryen, the Sixth of Your Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. You are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Jon. You’re the rightful Dragon King.”

He was breathing hard now. _No. I am a bastard. I married a former princess and became a Lord and—_

“Daenerys. She’s… she my…”

“She is your aunt,” Lyanna confirmed. “But she is your wife.”

“That’s… that’s just…”

“Oh, son, Westerosi nobility thrives in avuncular marriages. You know that. You also know that Targaryens preferred close ties. Besides, with how much you love her, does it matter?” she asked, but he wasn’t prepared to process that information.

“I named my firstborn after you,” he realised. “Without even knowing, without ever imagining.”

Lyanna smiled again. “I know. I saw it. We spirits see everything. I saw how Ayla wanted to tell you, but was bound by her oath. Then Benjen saved the day.”

“Rhaegar… my… my father… Fa— I mean, Uncle told Daenerys he hadn’t taken you and you said you were married, but…”

“Your father and I loved each other very much. We ran away together, I was never kidnapped. And when the High Septon joined our hands I was there out of free will and filled with love. You’re not the product of violence, son. We wanted you so very much.”

Jon felt the dream world they were in shifting. Lyanna held on to him more strongly. “The spell is wearing off,” he lamented.

She was crying again. “I love you, son! I’ve been in your dreams for years, I’ll always be there. The magic is strong in you, son. The magic from the First Men and from Valyria, Stark and Targaryen, joined for the first time. You are so much more than what you give yourself credit for, Jon.”

“But you said… Aegon…”

“Aegon would be the sixth. And however many others weren’t crowned. Be yourself, son. You are unique, be unique. But whatever you choose, whatever you call yourself, you are and you always will be my baby boy, my little pup, my dragonwolf. And I'm so proud of you!”

“I don’t want this to be over. I don’t want us to be parted again.”

She smiled amidst tears. “Oh, son, I have never left you. I have always been right there. You chose winter roses, you named your daughter after me. Magic is subtle in our world, son, but there is no magic more powerful than love.”

Crying copiously, they hugged each other tightly again, until the dream dissolved and Jon felt himself stirring in a bed in the Red Temple, the stifling heat of Volantis making his skin itch. He could still feel her arms, her warmth, and her love surrounding him, the sweet smell of winter roses overwhelming and overpowering the bad smell of the city. He stared at the ceiling for several moments, putting his thoughts in order, and then he sat up. His movement made Addam freeze his twitching leg and look up.

“So she showed up,” he said, seeing the truth in Jon’s eyes.

“In all these years, did anyone even think about telling me?” he asked, hurt.

“Oh, trust me, if it were up to us you would have known for years. But your father—”

“My uncle.”

Addam threw him a patronising look. “Your _father_.”

“You were Rhaegar’s best friend, how can you—”

“Look, I don’t think it’s fair, what happened. In an ideal world, your uncle Brandon wouldn’t have been a senseless hothead, Lyanna and Rhaegar would have been a bit smarter than just running and hiding, and Aerys wouldn’t have burnt down thousands for the amusement it brought him, so the bloody Rebellion would never have happened. But we live in a shitty world, and all this mess happened. The whoremonger stag killed Rhaegar, so he wasn’t there for you. But Ned Stark was. Ned Stark gave up his good name and his honour to protect you and you can say it was out of duty, but you’ll know you’re lying. That man loves you. He may not be your father by blood, but he is your father in all the other ways that matter. All the ways Rhaegar couldn’t be.”

Jon swallowed dry, knowing the words were true, but unable not to feel the burn of betrayal. Here he was, a man grown, married and with three children, a fourth on the way, and all this time his own self had been kept from him.

He buried his head in his hands, his mind still spinning. “I want to be alone.”

“Fine,” Addam said. “I’ll be at the door.”

“No. Go get Arya. And tell Davos—”

“I will be at the door,” Addam repeated.

Jon snorted. “This is why you’ve been shadowing me and not Dany. Because I’m Rhaegar Targaryen’s trueborn son.”

“I am a Kingsguard.” He shrugged.

“Very well, if you want to play it like that,” Jon said moodily. “I’m commanding you to go and get my lady sister to safety.”

Addam threw him a patronising look. “My higher duty is to protect you, not to fetch. And besides, your father’s last command was to protect you. I’ll send Leeds and Orys back to the ship and I will stay at the door. Unless you feel like relieving me of my vows, my King.”

Jon was so thrown by the title and its implications that he went slack, unable to answer or say anything else until Addam bowed and left the room, closing the door behind himself.

“Others take me!” Jon cursed. He hadn’t thought that far.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally we have the long-anticipated reveal! I hope you guys liked it! The reason it took so long is because i had this idea of having Lyanna be the one to tell Jon and so I had to wait until it would be believable that such magic could happen.
> 
> As to the relationship between Drogo and Dany -- strictly professional, Dany has her own agency and won't be sold off like she was in canon, since she is not naïve like she was in the beginning of A Game of Thrones/season 1.  
> As for Daario, in canon Dany meets him when she's a fourteen year old girl recovering from losing her husband and son in a terrible manner, but also in a spot where she had never had a awesome marriage where she felt pleasure as a woman. Canon Dany had lust for Daario, something this Dany won't relate much with because her relationship and marriage to Jon was completely different than what canon Dany had with Drogo.  
> So no, there will be no love triangle, Dany won't sleep with anyone else but Jon. I know it wouldn't be cheating because she believes herself a widow, but it's not going to happen anyway.
> 
> Can't wait to hear what you guys think of this huge chapter!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has to deal with the recent discovery while Jaime and Tyrion have a long overdue reunion.

Ella went into the solar and pursed her lips in displeasure. Tightening the robe around herself, she approached her brooding husband as he stood on the balcony, shivering as the chilly wind hit her thin clothes.

“You have to stop worrying so much, love.”

Ned sighed, pulled her closer, and hugged her tightly. “That is easier said than done. I wish you would go North with the children already.”

“I told you, I reluctantly agreed to go North and leave you behind because — and only because — of the children. I am very unhappy and very inclined to club you on the head and have Jory carry you into the ship with us.”

He chuckled. “He wouldn’t dare.”

“Well, too bad we’ll never find out isn’t it?” she smiled. “It is bad enough that Cersei is coming, you don’t need to make the city vulnerable by sending ships to escort us North. You’ve sent out the gossip that Jaime is here and everyone is seeing him about, so Tywin won't do anything for now. We have time to wait for the ships from White Harbour to pick us up.”

“Not so much now,” Ned said and sighed. “Tyrion’s letter arrived.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip for a moment. “When is Jaime leaving?”

“As soon as he’s got his supplies, he said. I still think it’s a dangerous gambit,” Ned grumbled.

“We have to gamble sometimes, Ned, you know that.” He mumbled something incoherent and she chuckled. “Come on, it’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Arya rolled her eyes when she saw Addam had still not moved from the place he had been standing at for two days now.

“Is he still brooding?” she asked, causing him to roll his eyes.

“Not minding in the least that I'm being indiscreet, do me a favour and get the reason out of him, little wolf. I’m sure telling you will be one of his great concerns right now.”

“Tell me what? That Dany’s pregnant? Hooray, it’s awesome, and I agree that we should only celebrate when we’ve found her, but why is he locking himself in his chambers like this?”

“I'm not being that indiscreet,” Addam said and opened the door.

Frowning, Arya walked inside. Then she raised an eyebrow, even more confused and worried. Jon was not one to go throwing things around, but the room looked like a terrible mess. The bed clothes were all twisted and pulled and pushed aside, contents from different trays of food spread like the servant hadn’t been allowed to properly collect them, several cups and empty flagons of wine lying around. Jon was sprawled out in a corner, snoring loudly, and Ghost had nudged a paw under his head to serve as a pillow. Arya got closer and then scoffed.

“Seven Hells, you are drunk!” she muttered. Jon didn’t even stir. “It must be really important and serious, to have you this out of it, big brother.”

Patrik timidly snuck his head in from the service door. “Lady Arya. May I tend to Lord Starling?”

“Get a tub and the coldest water you can find, Patrik,” Arya commanded. “Then some decent, hot food.”

“Oh, thank the gods. I have several buckets already here, I took them before dawn and kept them out of the sun, they should be cool enough. I’ll find Grenn to—”

“No, fill the tub and go see to the food, they spice it up too much here and Lord Starling hates it. I got him.”

The servant nodded, happy to be able to do his job, not daring to ask how Arya intended to get her brother into the tub. She closed her eyes and nudged Nymeria, who immediately jumped up to help, so the girl took her time to tidy up the clothes strewn around for laundry and rescue Dany’s letter, that Jon seemed to have been clutching strongly for a while. Soon, she heard voices in the corridor and opened the door.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

Gendry had a bewildered look on his face, but then relaxed and rolled his eyes. “I guess Nymeria wasn’t dragging me here for no reason then.”

“I asked her to. Come on in the two of you, Jon needs help into the tub.”

“Why can’t he go him—” Addam started but then cut himself short. “Oh. Bloody hells, I should have called you sooner. Come on.”

Arya paced the corridor in front of Jon’s door as the men helped him undress and get into the tub, chuckling at her brother’s grumbled and slurred curses once he finally woke. What seemed like hours later, Gendry opened the door and came out, looking worried.

“I think you should go in. Your brother is dressed and eating now, but he and Addam are quite angry at each other.” She sighed, welcoming the feel of his arms around her as he pulled her in for a hug.

“I’ve never seen him like this. Jon has his horns of ale, wine, and all, but I’ve never seen him drunk like this. Or anything more than a bit relaxed.”

“I can’t even imagine how he must be feeling. It’s bad enough that Lady Starling was taken, but now he knows she’s pregnant. And there’s something else going on. They wouldn’t speak of it, but it did sound like Lord Starling found out about something ‘people felt he was too dumb to know’ before.”

Arya frowned. “Thanks. I’ll sort him out now that he conscious.”

He kissed her forehead before stepping back. “Good luck.”

With a small smile, she went inside the guest chamber. Food delivered, Patrik worked quickly to set the bed to rights and collect the dirty cups and flagons and empty dishes so the room looked a bit more normal now.

“You got drunk!” she said, coming to the table. Jon looked down and blushed.

“I was… too much going on. Davos said tomorrow, so I thought…”

“Jon, trust me, if anyone needed to take a moment, it’s you. I can't imagine what you must be going through: Dany was kidnapped, now she is free but heading into danger, and she is pregnant…”

Jon snorted. “I can’t hide from this, can I?” he asked under his voice, but she got the sense it wasn’t to her. What was confirmed when Addam sighed.

“You can try to. You can try and ignore it, you can try and keep it a secret, but I doubt you’ll be able to,” the knight said.

Jon nodded, playing with his food. He still looked terrible, but at least he was clean and not smelling like an armpit in the summer of King's Landing.

“I just don’t know anything anymore,” he mumbled.

“Alright, Patrik, Uncle Addam, would you please excuse us? I should like to speak to Lord Starling alone.”

 “But my lady…” Patrik was shocked. “I mean… are you sure it would be appropriate?”

She threw him a scorching glare. “Unless you are suggesting anything inappropriate would happen between me and my lord brother.”

“Not that anyone would judge _me_ for it anymore,” Jon murmured nearly inaudibly. Addam rolled his eyes.

“Arya, please, speak sense to him. I know…” the knight sighed. “Jon, I get that you had your whole world turned around and I cannot pretend that I fully understand how you feel. But drinking yourself into a stupor is not going to help you or solve any of your problems.”

“I know that,” Jon exhaled heavily. “I just… last night it seemed like a good idea.” He shrugged.

“Alright, you two out now,” Arya said and waited until the door was closed behind them. “Well, it’s the two of us now, big brother.” And then, to her astonishment, Jon dropped his fork and burrowed his head in his hands as he began to cry so hard his shoulders shook with his sobs. “Hey, hey, hey,” she jumped out of her chair and knelt by him, “come on, big brother, I’m here. Tell me and then we’ll make it less terrible.”

“It’s all a lie, Arya,” he managed to say in a garbled voice.

“What is, big brother?” she asked softly, but it had the opposite effect of what she intended.

“Me,” Jon said, after a long time, once his sobs had calmed down a little, holding on to her hand as if it were his lifeline. “I’m a lie, Arya. I don’t… I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t… I feel like the world’s gone to shit and suddenly I don’t understand anything anymore.”

Arya was very confused. Even when Jon had been upset with how people treated him, with how her mother treated him, back in what seemed like another lifetime in Winterfell, he had never been this vulnerable… he was broody and sometimes sad, but the man before her now looked lost and alone.

“You are Jon Starling—”

“I’m not. That’s not me. That’s a lie.” He had stopped crying, but he seemed dejected and despondent.

“Fine, I don’t bloody care what you call yourself. I care about the little boy who snuck into the nursery to give his baby sister a goodnight kiss even when he knew her mother hated him and if she caught him, he would suffer severe consequences. I care about the boy who ruffled my hair and said I was great even when everybody told me I wasn’t behaving properly. I care about the boy who gave up a little of his time to play to sneak me ‘round the stables and teach me to ride astride, even when he knew he shouldn’t, and when Father caught us, he took full responsibility, even when thinking it’d get him in trouble. I care about the young man who gave me a sword, because he knew it was what I wanted, when everyone was telling me to pick up my sewing needles and watercolours. So I don’t care what revelation you had, what ‘lie’ you suddenly think you are. Because all that I just said is true. So, unless you’ve gone into a killing spree and murdered a bunch of children, I'm pretty sure we can figure this out, big brother. We can fix this.”

Jon smiled sadly and squeezed her hand harder. “I’m not,” he said softly.

“You’re not what? A murderer? I know that, it was a joke.”

“No, I meant…” he sighed heavily and she understood they had arrived at the heart of the problem. “I’m not your brother.”

“What?” she blinked, very confused. “I mean, that… Jon, that’s a lie.”

“It’s not,” he went on in that low voice that showed just how hopeless he was feeling. “Fath— he lied. I'm not his son, his bastard.” Jon laughed sardonically. “I'm not even a bastard. I was haunted by this my whole life, weighed down and ridiculed for being the one stain in Eddard Stark’s honour and now… now, I just…”

“Alright, just… just wait a moment.” Arya took a deep breath, trying to organise her thoughts. “You’re saying Father lied?” she asked and Jon nodded. “Why? Why would he say you’re his son?”

“Because he promised my mother he would protect me. So you see, I’m not your—”

“Shut up!” she exclaimed. “We’ll get to the how and why and who in a moment, but if you say you’re not my brother, I’m going to be very cross! Didn’t you hear what I just said, you bloody knucklehead? I do not care what you call yourself. You said you’re not Father’s son, fine. I don’t bloody care. You loved and protected and cared for me as a big brother loves and protects and cares for a little sister. So fuck off the rest of the world, you are my brother and I would very much like to introduce Needle to someone who dares say differently.”

Jon begun crying again, laughing and sobbing, as he pulled her into a tight hug Arya was more than happy to reciprocate.

“Now,” she begun a long time later, once they had stepped back, “tell me everything. From the beginning.”

Jon sighed. “Well, it all begins when a fierce she-wolf of Winterfell decided to behave very much against the rules. Just like someone else I know.” He ruffled her hair and she laughed, not at all annoyed that he had just ruined her braid. “She avenged a friend’s honour, but attracted the ire of a king and the admiration of a prince. And then there was a crown of winter roses and, a few stupid decisions later, all hells broke loose.”

“A she-wolf of… a crown of winter roses… you… you mean Aunt Lyanna?” Arya asked.

“My mother,” Jon revealed.

“That’s why Father wouldn’t tell you her name. Because… oh. Oh! Aunt Lyanna, who was ‘stolen’ by—”

“By Rhaegar Targaryen,” Jon finished the thought. “They got married and here I am.”

“Married?” she checked and he nodded. A moment later, it dawned on her. “You’re not a bastard. You’re a trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Bloody hells, you’re the rightful heir to the Iron Throne!”

“So it seems,” Jon muttered.

“I think I need a drink now,” Arya said, overwhelmed.

Jon chuckled. “Pretty sure Addam confiscated all the wine from the room.”

“Add— oh.” She smiled. “You have your own Kingsguard, big brother!”

Jon only rolled his eyes.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned stood on the balcony of the Small Council chambers, looking down at the Red Keep’s main courtyard just below them. Their meeting was just about to start, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t know whether or not it was on purpose,” Renly said, coming to stand next to him. “But I do thank you for having an excuse to not be down there.”

Ned smiled. “How could I ever have predicted the time of her arrival, Renly? She didn’t inform us about it.”

“Well thought,” Renly said, amused, as they watched Cersei climb down from her carriage. “It really is no small wonder that her monstrosity of a wheelhouse had to stay outside of the city gates. It would never fit through the streets.”

“Something she has always known,” Ned said. “And something that does concern me.”

“Ned, I doubt she would be hiding a trebuchet in there. I'm not saying Tywin may not be very well bringing his army behind her, but I think we don’t have to worry about what the Queen brought us.”

“I hope so. Many deadly things can fit very small packages.”

“Well, Cersei is the sort to use poisons,” Renly said. “Do you know whether Robert will receive her?”

“Robert tends to be unpredictable,” Ned answered. The King had been furious when he was told of her impending arrival, but the two of them had never quite mended their friendship after Joffrey’s trial. Ned wasn’t sure if there was a way to. “But if he had wanted to, he would have sent men to turn her away.”

“Then it begs the question: what does my brother want to throw on her face?”

“Knowing those two? Nothing good.” The thought didn’t please Ned one bit.

And that both worried and soothed the Northerner. With Cersei in town, in the Red Keep, obviously the wildfire wouldn’t be used. Which gave them the last few days for the Northern fleet to arrive and pick up Ella and the children. Ned only needed to make sure Cersei stayed that long. Because if she had come into the city due to the gossip they had spread about Jaime being there, she would be gone as soon as she couldn’t find him.

And then the other members of the Small Council — minus Willas — arrived and their meeting begun. Hours later, he couldn’t get away fast enough, going to the Tower of the Hand as fast as he politely could.

“Gods, what now?!” he groaned when he found his beautiful wife pacing their sitting room, an air of worry between her creased brows.

“I ah… I got a letter from my brother,” she said.

“Did they find Daenerys? Wait, why are you so worried?”

Ella sighed and only passed him the folded parchment.

 

_My beloved sister,_

_I have bad news and good news. And some news that are good but I am certain your husband will hate them. We arrived in Volantis this morning, and we were met on the harbour by a Red Priest inviting us to the Red Temple, where the High Priestess held a message from Queen Daenerys — his words, not mine. Jon went there immediately, where we learnt that she got free from her captors, thank the heavens, and that both she and the child she carries are well._

 

“She is pregnant?” Ned asked. “And she is free, this is wonderful!”

“Just keep reading, love,” Ella said.

Frowning, Ned looked back to the letter.

 

_However, in her plan to get free, the kidnappers took her handmaiden, Doreah, Archmaester Marwyn, and the dragon eggs. So, instead of waiting for us to come for her or sailing back to safety—_

 

“She went after them!” Ned concluded before he even read it. He knew his daughter well enough. “What was she thinking! Didn’t she think about the baby!”

“Well, she is a bit reckless, I have to give you that.” Ella sighed. “Just… just keep reading, Ned.”

 

_—safety, she decided to follow the kidnappers to where they were hired: Meereen, in Slaver’s Bay. Where, we were surprised to discover, Viserys Targaryen expects her._

_I believe that Viserys is working with the slavers in the city — how else would he have gotten the gold to hire sellswords? — and that can only mean that if the slavers are funding him and he had his sister brought to him, I believe he hopes to wed her and stake his claim upon the Iron Throne. The slavers would have agreed if Viserys promised them slavery in Westeros — imagine the profit margins._

_But that is not all that happened. The High Priestess touched Jon when he went to thank her for the hospitality of the Red Temple. And you know Red Priests can sense power in a person. Especially when said power comes from fire. She gave Jon a potion to speak with the spirit of a dead person and I doubt it will be hard to imagine who he wanted to talk to. Please do tell your husband I told him so. Jon should have heard it from him. But at least he heard it from his mother._

_I tried telling Jon that Ned Stark will always be his father — what I do not think Ned will believe, but I did — however, Jon did not take the news well. You know he likes to brood (and he had two fathers to inherit it from) so he has asked to be alone and has stayed locked up in his guest chambers all day long._

_I must say, while I do like that the truth is revealed, I think this was not a good moment for it. Jon was already shaken about Daenerys’ pregnancy and she left a letter, so it all piled out. But he will be alright. If for no other reason that Arya will kick him into being alright. So for that reason alone it is good that she stowed away._

 

Ned looked up, his arms falling down as his strength failed to hold them up.

“Jon knows?”

“I’m sorry, love,” Ella said softly, coming closer and taking his hands in hers. “I know you wanted to be the one to tell him.”

“He shouldn’t have found out like this! Halfway across the world, his wife rushing into danger with their child in her belly! I should… I had to be there for him! To tell him…”

“Shhh, I know Ned, I know!” Ella said, seeing the pain in his eyes. “To tell him he is your son no matter what.”

“He is…” Ned mumbled. “My son, no matter what. I need… I need to tell him that. I need… I need him to understand.”

“I know it’s not ideal, but write him a letter,” Ella suggested. “Tell him he is your son and that you can speak more once you meet. But don’t… don’t let it fester…”

Ned nodded and Ella felt her heart break at the pain and agony she saw on his face.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tyrion smiled widely once he finally climbed down from the carriage. His legs were stiff from all the time travelling, but finally they had arrived.

“I presume I have to go ahead and get some rooms,” Bronn said.

“Bronn, my dear friend…”

“I’m your pet guard, it seems, not your friend,” the man grumbled.

“You’re handsomely paid to be my pet guard,” Tyrion returned. “And you have been nagging me for a very long time about the idleness of the peaceful quietude of the Midnight Fortress. And now that we are out in the world you complaining as well?”

“Do I get rooms or not?”

Tyrion chuckled. “Yes, Bronn, please do get us some rooms. And then proceed to go right ahead to the brothel.”

“And you are not coming?”

“I will be anxiously expecting my brother. If he hasn’t arrived yet.”

So the dwarf went inside the Crossroads Inn, glad for the chance to warm up inside. The four Starling guards with him seemed eager for a night inside rather than around a campfire, and Tyrion did not blame them. He knew it was still only autumn, and it was certainly warmer here in the Riverlands than up North, but there was a very chilly wind today. He smiled as he looked around. Jaime was already there, grumpily staring at his cup as he sat on a table in the back corner.

“Brother,” Tyrion greeted as he climbed onto the bench.

Jaime sighed, but then smiled. “Brother. I thought you had given up this claim.”

“Cersei’s madness is not powerful enough to erase it from my mind,” the dwarf said, signalling the innkeeper over and nearly missing Jaime’s frown. “What, she never told you why I left home?”

“Father said…”

Tyrion snorted. “I knew they’d lie, so I'm not exactly surprised. They would have known you wouldn’t take kindly to it.”

“They said you betrayed the family,” the knight said. “That you went to the Starlings to plot against us.”

“I’ll let you decide now whether you believe that or not.”

Jaime sighed. “I’ve always known there was more to the story. You got to the Blessed Island just as Daenerys Starling was nearly killed. I always assumed they had been involved somehow and you didn’t approve of the idea.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. “That’s nearly accurate. It’s been a few years but I'm sure you’ve heard Robb Stark was attacked as well at the time.”

Jaime closed his eyes and exhaled. “I was hoping it was an odd coincidence.”

“I'm afraid Father and our dear sister were angry with Ned Stark and Jon Starling. I voiced the opinion that such acts could end up being too dangerous. Father begrudgingly agreed it was worth thinking about it better, but Cersei was never one to think too deeply about consequences. And when I argued with her…” Tyrion sighed. “It was stay and die or leave. I don’t regret that decision. There was a time I would die for House Lannister. But not like that. Not because of Cersei’s illusions of grandeur.”

Jaime swallowed. He had been making excuses for too long. And he was tired of making excuses. Ever since… as terrible as it sounded, ever since Joffrey’s death, ever since he had gone to Dragonstone with Tommen and Myrcella, Jaime found himself questioning more and more his choices and what had led him to them. Myrcella was so… so _pure_. She reminded him of what Cersei could be, what she had been once. The Cersei he had fallen in love with. Before she became so blinded by her ambition, by her eagerness to be queen, that she cared about little else. The whole plot to turn him into a Kingsguard… did she truly love him that much? He was tired of making the same questions round and round his head.

Also, he had always known Cersei and Tyrion didn’t get along. Jaime knew that, if he asked his sister, she would act offended and say ‘of course not! I'm a Lannister!’, but after her latest plans… that pathetic idea to have Joffrey rape Daenerys… Cersei wanted what Cersei wanted, Jaime had been deeply saddened to realise. But this… threatening Tyrion, their brother, their own flesh and blood, just for the sake of vengeance… This had no excuse. He wouldn’t even try. Then he exhaled.

“What do you want, Tyrion? Why after three years you decide to send a letter asking to meet midway and then revive this?”

“Because Father and Cersei are trying to be funny again.”

Jaime heard in his tone that his brother wasn’t fishing for information, he was certain of it. “I know,” he confessed, exhaling heavily, as if this truth weighted a ton on his back. “Once Ned Stark let slip that there were rumours of Cersei in town I investigated and heard she was coming to the capital.”

“You mean they didn’t tell you beforehand?” Tyrion was actually shocked.

“I was living in Dragonstone and the foolish maester there is a staunch defender and supporter of Stannis. He wouldn’t betray him. If Father made his enquires — and he always does — he would know that and so he wouldn’t risk sending me any messages at Dragonstone. But once I was in King's Landing, I had Pycelle run interference. They won’t tell me what, but I do know they’re plotting something. But I don’t actually think they would have sent men after Daenerys, if that’s why you're here.”

“Well, I actually believe you. It looked like a careless job and that is not Father’s style. But Jaime… You might not know what exactly, but you’re not stupid enough not to have an inkling,” Tyrion said and Jaime looked away. “Tommen is old enough to be secured as king, brother. You know they’ve been itching for that for years, and they must have cursed heavily once Joffrey fell. They won’t wait any longer.”

The Kingsguard exhaled. “What do you want from me?”

“Jaime — they know. They know about you and Cersei, they know about the children’s paternity. They’ve known for years, even before that… thing at Robb Stark’s wedding.”

He recoiled, panicking. “No… no, they wouldn’t… they can’t know. Why would they—?”

“Because Ned Stark may have his flaws, but he wouldn’t want their deaths on his conscience. He knew Robert would believe him, he wasn’t worried about proof. But he also knew Robert would call for all of your heads. Not even fleeing to Casterly Rock would save you. There would be a bloody war.”

“So what—?”

“Jaime, _think_. If Cersei and Father kill Robert to install Tommen, then who do you think people would rather believe? A nearly disgraced Queen, who was shown to be a shitty mother, with a weak boy would-be king or Ned Stark, Robert’s best friend, who is known for his fucking honesty and honour and would never dishonour himself like that?”

“People would rather the illusion of succession than another bloody—”

“Rhaegar left a son,” Tyrion whipped out his coup-de-grâce.

“What?”

“Rhaegar left a surviving son.”

“Where? Who?”

“Can’t trust you that much yet,” Tyrion said, then took a long swig of wine. He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “There is a war coming, brother. Father and Cersei are about to start it. But you know what people think of our family — and more than that, about Cersei.”

Jaime was still reeling, his thoughts in a whirlwind. “Why no one ever… But the Mountain… how did he survive?”

Tyrion sighed. His brother was not stupid. He had been in the Red Keep, he would’ve seen at least the aftermath of the Mountain’s encounter with Elia Martell and her children. Therefore, the logical conclusion was that said son had been outside the capital during the Sack, and just who was Rhaegar Targaryen hiding away with? He pulled out the envelope from his breast pocket and Jaime opened it with trembling fingers.

 

_A man must always make his choices. What is yours?_

_Ser Arthur Dayne, Kingsguard to the True King of the Seven Kingdoms_

 

Jaime felt his blood run cold. The seal was the same, the seal he would never forget. The message was simple and straight forward, rather than a long-winded explanation about the advantages and honour in siding with Rhaegar’s son. This was Ser Arthur’s style: say one sentence and communicate a whole lesson. And it was dated only weeks ago, the time around when Tyrion would be preparing to leave the Midnight Fortress. He remembered the message in his room years ago, but he had always thought he’d imagined it. _There is always room for improvement._

“He’s alive?” Jaime asked and Tyrion only nodded. “Where is he?”

“At this precise moment? No idea. But I know he is in Essos,” he answered. Obviously, there was no need to explain that he was in Essos with Rhaegar’s son looking for Daenerys.

But Jaime barely heard him, his mind putting all the pieces together. Because the story that had been told was that Arthur Dayne had been in the south with Oswell Whent and Gerold Hightower, guarding…

“Lyanna Stark,” he whispered, looking up to his brother, seeing Tyrion clench his jaw. Then the last piece fell into place. How, in all of the Seven Hells, had no one made the connection? Why had… it was so obvious! How had Ned Stark, one of the shittiest liars in the Seven Kingdoms, pulled it off? “Jon Starling,” Jaime said in the lowest whisper he could manage, glad for the raucous in the tavern. “He’s… he’s never been Ned Stark’s bastard. He’s Rhaegar’s.”

Tyrion smiled. “About that… how well did you know our late Prince?”

Jaime thought back to the day Rhaegar left the Red Keep to lead the troops to the Trident. ‘ _I’m leaving half of my family under your watch, Ser Jaime_ ,’ the Prince of Dragonstone had said. **_Half_** of his family.

“Wait. He _married_ her?”

“And Robert ironically betrothed Jon Starling to…”

“Fucking hells!” Jaime exclaimed and then cursed more under his breath, sitting back on the bench, trying to wrap his mind around the revelation. “You already have everything you need for a bloody restoration, Tyrion! They have the right bloodline, three children — two of them sons — to show for a secure dynasty, and it won’t be hard to prove they have the wrong name right now. And they have the love of the people. Why do you need me?”

The dwarf smiled. “Because you’ve never forgiven yourself for failing Rhaegar, brother. Don’t fail him now.” Jaime blinked tears away. But Tyrion only stood up, taking his tankard with him. “I’ll leave you to process it, brother. Come find me when you’re ready.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Catelyn watched the two men speak, feeling anger fill her and grow. Here they were, enjoying their brotherly bond and their wine and their food, uncaring about all the misery and pain they had spread. She remembered all too well the weeks and weeks of terror she experienced just after Bran had been thrown off that tower, unsure whether her precious boy would ever wake up again. And then he did wake, but he was crippled. Crippled and nearly killed by an assassin sent to finish the job the fall hadn’t done. She remembered what Petyr had told her, a few moon turns after her arrival at the Sept of Baelor, that he had tracked down the assassin, the one who had had the dagger she had described to him. _Tyrion Lannister_. The little imp, the little monster. And the proud lion, Ser Jaime. Probably plotting whose son they would attack next on their way to the lion’s den. Ned was too weak, not having acted yet.

But what could she do? The Great and Honourable, the Revered Lord Eddard Stark had exiled her from Winterfell due to the hurt feelings of a nobody bastard and his fallen princess wife. A princess with royal blood that should have been _Robb’s_ wife, not the bastard’s. Why had Ned done that? Given up the chance of royal grandchildren, just that simple? Instead, he had married Robb off to the Reach, the posh and pompous Reach. And Sansa! Her beautiful, sweet girl, sent off to the savage Dornish and their perverted ways! Bran, promised off to the lowly Reeds! And Arya! Arya was wilder than ever, truly believing she could behave like a boy! Her poor, misguided daughter… and she… she couldn’t say anything because, after her exile from Winterfell, her lord father had been sure she would never be able to regain her position. As such, Hoster wouldn’t be saddled with a disgraced daughter as an extra expense, so he had shipped her off to the sept and like that Catelyn had lost everything.

And her children… her poor children, neglected and misguided… all this had happened because Ned had married the whore, who was simply too busy sprouting new bastard half-bloods to have the time to care for Ned’s real children. But no more, Catelyn decided. She had been locked up in the sept for years, unable to do anything.

Finally, believing she had grown used to her situation, the High Septon had assigned ‘Septa Catelyn’ to her very own place, taking care of the sept and the children of a nobody lord from the Vale. She had wanted to cry. She hadn’t even recognised the House, which meant they were either new or irrelevant. Or both. But dutiful Septa Catelyn had departed King's Landing at the High Septon’s order to fulfil her role. Their party had stopped at the Crossroads Inn for a night and here she was, hidden in the shadows, enjoying a pure glass of wine like she hadn’t ever since Robb’s wedding, and watching the murderous brothers.

This was her chance to act. Her one chance to do something for her family before she was once more locked up in another fortified building. That is, if a minor House from the Vale could afford any sort of fortification. She looked around the tavern again. She recognised several, almost all of the banners. There were four Starling guards — what were they even doing here? — Riverlanders, men of the Vale… that should work. Oddly enough, there were no red cloaks, but that was even better. The proud lions thought they were so unreachable they didn’t need escort. She could call the knights from the Riverlands, call them on her father’s name to bring to justice the would-be murders of their liege’s grandson. The men from the Vale would help, since she was their liege’s aunt.

It would all be for naught, though, if anyone here rushed back to tell Tywin Lannister. He would send his men straight to Riverrun. So that’s where Catelyn couldn’t go. Call them on their loyalty to House Tully, but not go home, only say as much. The path north was also blocked: Petyr had told her the whore’s first born had been made Lord of Moat Cailin and as such there was construction in the castle. Whoever was in charge of it — perhaps Benjen, as that seemed to be what he amounted to in life, to oversee construction for bastard’s castles — wouldn’t let her through, they would keep her and her prisoners there until Ned told them what to do. Going south to King's Landing would be equally useless: Robert Baratheon, the pathetic buffoon, would simply let them go because they were his good-brothers. She couldn’t go west, or north, nor south. Therefore, she was left with east. The Vale. Lysa would receive her. And Petyr would be there! He had written that Lysa had been so fragile when he arrived, the Lord Declarants were going to seize the Eyrie from her and send her back to Riverrun — they had apparently already taken little Robin. And they knew what Hoster would do to an exiled daughter. So Petyr had done the altruistic thing, he had married Lysa, to protect her and keep her with her son. Catelyn knew they couldn’t have found a better friend than Petyr, so devoted to them and their happiness!

She downed the rest of her wine, taking a deep breath. These knights would answer her plight, surely. And then she would bring these murderers to face trial. And Bran would be avenged! Oh, perhaps the children would be finally convinced she only had their best interests at heart! She could not wait!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Arthur talk about past history while, finally in Meereen, Dany has a few things to tell Viserys.

Benjen climbed the stairs to the family wing with a divided heart. The amazing news from Essos was eclipsed by bad and the ones from King's Landing were even worse. Ayla jumped up to her feet once he came out into the balcony she was with the children, squeezing her hands as she rushed towards him.

“What? What news?”

“They know where she is,” he told her and she let out a relieved breath.

“Oh, thank the gods! Is she well?”

“We believe so.”

“Wait,” Ayla took a deep breath. “They know where she is, means she… they don’t have her yet?”

“No, love, I'm sorry. She… she escaped, though.”

“Benjen, you’re making no sense!”

“Calm down,” he shushed, smiling as Lyanna and Little Addam looked over, lilac and grey eyes narrowing in suspicion. “They got to Volantis and found news in the Red Temple. Dany escaped, but the kidnappers took Doreah, the Archmaester and the eggs, so…”

“Yes, yes, of course she went after them. But Jon knows where to go now, right?”

“Aye,” Benjen said, taking a deep breath. “Meereen. Viserys Targaryen is the one who hired the sellswords.”

“Oh, the vicious…!”

“Is it about Mama and Papa, Uncle?” Lyanna asked.

“Are they coming home now?” Little Addam pressed.

“Papa knows where Mama is now,” Benjen said. “So he will meet her soon.”

“So they are coming home?” Lyanna asked as Aemon walked over and the three siblings gave hands in a triad of very cute inquisitors. Benjen smiled at their bond.

“They will turn back northwest soon, I'm sure. But you need to understand, Lya, they are very far away. It will take them a long time to come back.”

“Alright. But they are fine?”

“Of course they are,” Benjen promised, even though he knew that a lot could yet change. But Lyanna gasped.

“Blue is awake! Bye now!” she ran back to where the picnic towel was spread and her dragon egg rest in a nest of blue and grey fur, glinting against the sun.

“Blue has been awake much more these days,” Benjen said, frowning.

“I know,” Ayla said, a crease setting between her brows. “So has Silver. And yes, I do know that having Little Addam’s egg have the same name as your brother’s direwolf could be confusing, but he said once ‘Silver is out’ he will name him properly. What else from Essos?”

“The dragon might have three heads, but there is a fourth on the way,” Benjen said and Ayla barely contained her excitement, knowing they shouldn’t tell the children just yet. “And, the High Priestess sensed the power in Jon’s blood.”

“Melisandre has been saying that for years,” Ayla said quietly, still uncomfortable watching the woman sit with the children and the dragon eggs. She knew she owed Jon’s life to the Red Priestess and that Jon and Dany had talked her out of her murderous fanaticism as a condition to stay in their home, but there was still something about her…

“Aye, but Melisandre thought the power in Jon’s blood came from his resurrection. This Kinvara didn’t. She gave Jon a potion to speak with the spirit of a dead person.”

“I see. He spoke with his mother, then?”

“Well, Ella’s next sentence was ‘Jon knows the truth’, so I am guessing yes.”

“Well, I do agree that this was not the best way. Your brother…”

“I know, I know.” Benjen picked up Lyarra as she crawled over, smiling at his daughter who giggled in response. “But it is done now.”

“Gods, he must be so lost! And confused! The poor thing, all alone!” Ayla was even more anxious now.

“He is not alone, love,” Benjen said as she bent over to pick up Rhea, who had crawled after her sister. “Addam is with him, and Addam was there at the Tower. And Arya too. At least something good will come from her stowing away, she’ll tell Jon nothing’s changed.”

She pursed her lips. “I still think she had no business…” she started and snorted, looking away at Benjen’s amused look. “Jon should have sent her back,” she insisted.

“In a merchant ship he didn’t fully trust? And why, so she could sneak away again?”

“We’re not having this argument again,” Ayla decreed. “What about the capital? Anything else that is concerning?”

“Is there anything more concerning than concealed caches of wildfire?” Benjen wondered, sighing at her look. “Cersei is there. Still don’t know why, but Ned will make sure she doesn’t leave. As long as she is in the Red Keep…”

“Tywin won't dare attacking.” Ayla exhaled. “I still don’t know, Benjen… it just looks too simple.”

“They didn’t count on Jaime being there, on Jaime hearing about the wildfire and reporting it to Ned. It threw their plan off.”

“Pycelle would have told them…”

“Pycelle would have told them that Jaime would make his report and leave, as everyone expected. But Jaime didn’t leave, he didn’t return to Dragonstone. Rather, he stayed in King's Landing helping Ned and now he’s probably already at the Crossroads, talking to Tyrion. Cersei won't act until she has her children with her.”

“I hope you’re right,” Ayla said, taking the girls back to where the rest of the children were gathered.

“So do I,” Benjen said under his breath.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Addam crossed the ship to the bow, where Jon was sitting and brooding. At least he hadn’t gotten drunk again. Jon smiled and chuckled when he saw the envelope in his hands.

“A hawk.”

“What?” Addam asked.

“A hawk,” Jon repeated. “It’s the only bird that flew by alone for the past three hours and this one was wearing a breastplate, though I couldn’t see the sigil. And now you’re here with a letter.”

Addam chuckled. “On hindsight, probably not a good idea. And his name is Dusk. No, you may not comment on Allyria’s poor sense of humour.”

“What’s the name of hers?”

“Stela. Ella’s is Dawn and Edric’s is Noon,” the knight played along and Jon chuckled.

“That’s not very subtle.”

“At least Lord Dondarrion has good sense when it comes to naming.”

“Well, there is no clever joke in Manfred, I agree. Though I still think: ‘poor boy’.” Jon sighed. “I assume you told them. Is it from him?”

“If by _him_ , you mean your father, yes, it is.” Addam handed over the letter. Jon took it slowly and then only stared at the address: ‘To my son’. “I’m not going to bully you into reading it now…”

“It would be insubordination,” Jon smirked.

“You’re suddenly very cheeky.” The knight snorted. “It seems that in one conversation your mother has taught you to be just like her!”

“She was cheeky?” Jon asked as he looked up and Addam noticed the eagerness in his eyes. He had had bits and pieces of Lyanna before, as his aunt and as the elusive unknown woman who had given him birth, but now he had a name, he had a face, and it seemed his curiosity was spiked.

“She was, very. She was… a lot like Arya. Though a bit more contrite at times and much more radical at others. Her father, your grandfather, didn’t allow her to train or carry a sword, not like yours did, so she was shier in that respect, but when she wanted something she lashed out and she got it.” He smiled, lost in the past. “She was… he was just like you, you know, brooding and quiet, an amazing swordsman. But she brought life out of him. She made him happy. She was so true, so honest, it was impossible not to like her.”

“They were happy?” Jon asked, still haunted. The revelation of the truth had made him question everything he knew so far.

He was still unsure of what to think — he understood love, but could he do what Rhaegar had done? Could he give up everything, his duty, his responsibilities, leave behind wife and children to run off with a woman promised to someone else? Rhaegar and Lyanna’s love had sparked a Rebellion that had drowned the realm in chaos and war and blood and death. Could he be proud to be the symbol of that?

“They were so over the moon with happiness that they made me, a man very cynical about love, believe in the romance of songs,” Addam said.

“What about… Elia Martell?”

“Jon, your father, he… he was the Prince of Dragonstone, the next king. Aerys wanted a bride worthy of wedding and bearing a Targaryen, he wanted a Valyrian noble woman. But Queen Rhaella… she wasn’t able to have a daughter soon enough to wed Rhaegar. The Velaryons also had no daughters to offer, so the King commanded his good friend and member of his Small Council, Steffon Baratheon, to go to Essos and find him a noble woman of Valyrian ancestry.”

“That was Robert’s father?”

“Yes,” Addam continued. “He failed and, on his return to Storm’s End, his ship sunk after being caught in a storm. That was the first resentment between Robert and House Targaryen.”

“Because his father was killed in service of the King,” Jon finished the thought.

“Yes. It was a tragedy, but anyway, Aerys, already growing paranoid, thought it had been a manoeuvre by Tywin, to prevent Steffon from replacing him as Hand. But the fact was that, while Robert’s resentment festered, Rhaegar still had no bride. Aerys then decided to find another House that had already married into the Royal family — as you know, Robert has no sisters, so the Dornish alliance was brokered. Neither Rhaegar nor Elia had any great love for each other. They were only friends, who grew to be very good friends. They had Rhaenys, and Elia was very sick afterwards. But Rhaegar had let himself be influenced by the prophecy and was certain he must have three children, and that these three children would lead the War for the Dawn. Also, Aerys wasn’t satisfied with a granddaughter, he wanted a proper grandson. And so it came Aegon, and that nearly killed Elia. The maesters said another pregnancy would kill her, so they agreed that their marriage was over in that respect. Elia wanted to return to Dorne, to make sure Aerys wouldn’t force them to have another child.”

“But if it was so dangerous to her…” Jon cut in.

“The Mad King earned his name, Jon, as terrible as it is. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything other than what _he_ wanted, what _he_ decided. If he wanted a third grandchild, it wouldn’t have mattered at all that it would mean Elia’s death. He would be capable of killing her himself and then marrying Rhaegar off to someone else.”

“That’s terrible,” Jon mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Addam said. “I know he was your grandfather, but I… I just need you to understand that everything that was done back then, all of the plans your father had in place, were to go around his father and try to protect as many people as he could. Especially your grandmother. Rhaegar agreed to let Elia go for a trip to Dorne after Harrenhall.”

“And Harrenhall was not a mere tourney, was it?”

“No,” Addam chuckled. “Rhaegar wanted to gather enough support from the high lords to dethrone Aerys and rise as King. Not out of greed, but because Aerys wasn’t fit anymore. But Varys found out, discovered some of the lords intended to betray Rhaegar and, in trying to prevent Aerys from taking his head off and therefore drown the realm in chaos, the Spider told the King there were rumours of treason and Aerys decided to attend the tourney to verify the threat. Because there was the growing enmity between Aerys and Tywin, because the King had refused Cersei as Rhaegar’s bride and he was afraid of how people whispered the Tywin was the true power in Westeros.”

Jon snorted. “Seems to be a pattern of kings, to leave the ruling to their Hands.”

“Yes, it does indeed. In any case, with the King there, Rhaegar didn’t dare to go in search of the support he needed. But that’s when your mother changed everything. On their way to Harrenhall, the Starks had come across three squires beating up a smaller boy. Lyanna was ahead of everyone on Winter, so she dismounted, claimed the boy was her father’s bannerman, and kicked the squires away. It turned out that the boy was indeed a bannerman, Lord Howland Reed.”

“That’s the Lord of Greywater Watch, the father of Bran’s betrothed,” Jon remembered.

“Yes. You know crannogmen, they are small, so he couldn’t fight back the three squires. Lyanna tried to convince him to enter the lists, to avenge his honour, but Lord Reed declined, saying he didn’t have the skill. So Lyanna, being fearless and reckless, sent Benjen after any piece of armour he could find, painted a shield with a made-up sigil, and entered the lists as the mysterious Knight of the Laughing Tree.”

Jon snapped his head up. “Laughing Tree?” he asked and Addam nodded, frowning. “Now it makes sense!” Jon laughed. “They were sending us clues all along!”

“What makes sense?” Addam asked. “Who was sending clues?”

“Dany dreamt more than once that she was in the woods. Then she walked around until she found a clearing with a weirwood heart tree with a smiling face. Odd, because heart trees usually have sad or neutral faces. But as soon as Dany saw the tree’s face, the entire wood begun laughing. And Rhaegar was there too. In the first dream he didn’t say anything, Dany woke up just as she recognised him, but in the last one they talked. But… she didn’t tell me much. But go on, my mother entered the lists. What else?”

“She was a good rider,” Addam continued, a bit baffled with what Jon had shared. “She beat the three knights whom the squires served. When it came her time to demand ransom, all she asked for was that the knights taught their squires honour. That sparked Aerys’ paranoia. Gods know how he did it, but he worked out that this Knight of the Laughing Tree was a traitor conspiring against the Crown, and he yelled to Rhaegar to bring him to justice. He yelled to the crowd that there would be a reward for the knight’s head.”

“But that makes no sense! Why would a knight demanding the teaching of honour be treason against the Iron Throne?” Jon asked.

“I told you, Aerys was mad. His mind was broken, it didn’t work right anymore. Everyone was his enemy. So that is why your mother, who didn’t even care about Court or anything, was proclaimed a traitor. Rhaegar rushed to ‘obey’ the King. He too agreed that the knight was likely no threat to the throne and he wanted to find ‘him’ and help ‘him’ escape before someone else killed an innocent to satisfy the King’s mad desires. We tracked the knight all the way to the godswood, to a heart tree, obviously, me, Rhaegar, and Ser Barristan. When we got there, Lyanna was removing her helmet and, when her long hair cascaded down and Rhaegar realised she was a woman, not a man, he was instantly attracted to her. She was terrified, certain she would be brought before the King for execution, but if Rhaegar didn’t want to do it before, he was never going to allow it then. He managed to gain her trust and she explained why she had entered the lists, and he was in love. Then he asked her name and she said: ‘Lady Lyanna, if you must know, of House Stark. And this is Winter, my mare’. And Rhaegar was reminded of the prophecy, about a prince born of Ice and Fire, and he was convinced they were meant to be.”

“So the only reason they were together was because Rhaegar was blinded by an ancient prophecy?” Jon was outraged.

“No, no, Jon, you didn’t understand it. Perhaps that did weigh in on Rhaegar’s decision, no one can ever know whether or not it has, but he was drawn to her because of her courage. He fell in love with her because of her actions. Once she said her name, he only decided to follow this feeling and damn the rest, caution to the wind.”

“But why did she love him?”

Addam chuckled. “Because he was the first man to tell her she was right in picking up a lance and fighting in the lists. Because he didn’t dismiss her as a lady, didn’t send her to her solar to stitch another dress. He told her she belonged on Winter’s back and that she had all the right in the world to carry a sword. Lyanna wasn’t the sort to fawn for princes and wait in a tower for her song. She wanted freedom and Rhaegar loved her for who she was, not for the position she was born into.”

Jon smiled. “Just like Arya…”

“Exactly.” A few moments of silence went by.

“What happened after Harrenhall?”

“Well, on your mother’s side, they returned north, stopping in Riverrun to set Brandon and Catelyn’s wedding date. Then Lord Rickard wanted to set the date for Lyanna’s marriage to Robert Baratheon. But if it was a match that displeased her before, she wasn’t going to accept it now. I suppose the situation worsened to the point that your grandfather decided to send her off to Riverrun, to learn the ways of the south and wait for her brother’s wedding, when then she would return North to get married herself. So, in the end, Lyanna felt like she was being exiled from her home and told to be someone she detested.”

“I can imagine how well that worked out,” Jon snorted.

“Lyanna sent Rhaegar a raven, saying that if he was serious about trying to marry her it was now or never. She would run off to meet him or she would run off to Essos, but she was not going to Riverrun.”

“She would have run away to Essos?” Jon asked.

“If she already disliked the _rumours_ she had heard of Robert, meeting him during the tourney had made up her mind,” Addam said. “Rhaegar was already working on it, though. He had thought of proposing a second wife, but Elia wouldn’t hear of it. She loved him as a dear friend only, but she wouldn’t accept being the figure head, knowing he loved and bedded another woman, doesn’t matter how legal it would be. And she cared nothing for the crown either, only her children. So they agreed that Elia would take Aegon and Rhaenys to Dorne and raise them there, until Aegon was old enough to return to Court and learn his duty as Crown Prince. The High Septon agreed to these terms, decreeing that the ‘holy purpose of a marriage was to produce heirs and there was no use to keep watering a dead tree’. He would dissolve Rhaegar and Elia’s marriage, acknowledge Aegon as heir, and then marry Rhaegar and Lyanna. All the while, your father would gather support to dethrone Aerys and bring peace to the Kingdoms. Then your mother’s raven arrived and he rushed all of his plans.”

“We took a ship from Dragonstone and sailed to the Westerlands,” Addam went on. “Lord Reed helped Lyanna as she passed the Neck and the crannogmen there made the Stark guards get lost in the swamps long enough to meet the Stark host coming down for Brandon’s wedding months later. Lyanna escaped and, instead of going to Riverrun, she rode all the way to the Westerlands to meet us. We then sailed south, to Dorne, and up the mountains to the Tower of Joy. There, the High Septon signed Rhaegar and Elia’s annulment and married your parents.”

“But why didn’t they send a raven?” Jon asked, confused. “My mother had to have known that her family would be worried about her.”

“She did send a raven, Jon,” Addam said. “We stopped at Starfall and I was standing next to her as the maester sent the bird off. We don’t know what happened. Only that when your uncle Brandon received it, on the morning before his wedding, he instead had his horse saddled and rode all the way to the Red Keep. Once he was in the throne room, he proclaimed that he knew Rhaegar had taken his sister, so he demanded that the Prince came out and died.”

“That was a stupid thing to say,” Jon commented.

“Very much so, and no less because Aerys was indeed mad. So he placed Brandon and his retinue under arrest and commanded Lord Rickard to come and negotiate the ransom.”

“Except that when Grandfather arrived, the Mad King had them both killed.”

“Yes,” Addam agreed. “Poor decision, to slaughter the Warden of the North and his heir like that, without even a sham trial, but Aerys hadn’t seen sense in years. He connected Robert to this conspiracy against the throne due to his betrothal to Lyanna, so he sent a raven to Jon Arryn commanding him to deliver your father Ned’s and Robert’s heads to the Red Keep. The Rebellion was already in the works, Jon: Houses Stark, Tully, Baratheon, and Arryn were already moving to replace Aerys, so when that raven arrived at the Eyrie, they rose against the throne. Robert can claim from the top of his lungs that he did it for Lyanna all he wants, and in a way she and Rhaegar running off were an important factor, but it wasn’t really the root of the problem.”

Jon fingered the letter for a long moment, taking it all in. “He did have three children in the end,” he said quietly. “But I’m the only one still standing. Aegon is too dead to lead any wars,” he pointed out and Addam only raised an eyebrow. “Wait, she said… is that why she named _me_ Aegon?”

“You were born nearly two moon turns after the Sack, Jon. We already knew how your brother had died. Your father… he found Aegon, the Conqueror’s, journal. Ser Barristan managed to get it and his other scrolls and personal books from his chambers and hide it from Robert’s purge. But in that journal, Aegon spoke of how he had dreamt that there would come a day when a threat, an enemy would come from the north and all of Westeros would need to unite to fight this foe. That is what set him in his ‘journey’ to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, to unify them so that, together, they could face this threat.”

“Except that Aegon I conquered the Seven Kingdoms three hundred years ago. White Walkers haven’t started bothering the Free Folk and the Watch until a few years ago!”

“He dreamt that an ‘Aegon Targaryen’ would lead the war.”

“Oh.” Jon lost his words. “And you think… because she named _me_ Aegon Targaryen… that I… I mean, me… I mean…”

“I'm not saying anything, Jon. Aegon, the Conqueror, thought it meant him. For a while Rhaegar thought that _he_ was the Prince Who Was Promised. In the end, prophecies can mean nothing.”

“I'm not some conqueror come to whip the Seven Kingdoms into following me!” Jon exclaimed with conviction. “I don’t want any of this! I’m not… I am _not_ a king, Addam! I can’t rule, I wouldn’t know how! I don’t _want_ the Iron Throne! Let Robert choke on it for all I care!”

Addam chuckled, amused with his temper — he was so like his mother! “You’re right. You are no conqueror. But you also don’t see yourself clearly. You’ve just spent five years being lord of a castle and I'm sure your people love you and will fight for you out of love and loyalty, not out of fear. That is why I know you would be a great ruler, because you inspire loyalty without terrifying anyone into following you. And Jon, you have already done something most incredible, something no one has managed to do in eight thousand years: you have brought the Night's Watch and the Free Folk together, allies and friends, rather than foes trying to eradicate the other.”

“And I got killed for it,” Jon muttered, looking away, embarrassed.

“You knew the danger and you did it anyway. You’re right, I wouldn’t compare you to Aegon, the Conqueror. If anyone, I’d compare you to Jaehaerys, the Conciliator. But you are neither of them, Jon. You are you. And you can only be yourself.”

Addam patted his shoulder and stood up, going back to the main deck, where Arya was waiting and called him for a sparring session. Jon looked down at the envelope in his hands, trying to gather the courage to open it. Finally, he ripped the grey direwolf seal and unfolded the letter.

 

_My dear son,_

_I know you know the truth, but I refuse to call you anything else. Because you are and always will be my son, Jon. And I apologise for not telling you before, but it was never because I did not think you could handle it or because I did not trust you, it was out of zeal and love and, if I must be truthful, it was also a bit out of fear that I would lose one of my sons._

_After you mother passed away, I held you in my arms, and I cried in grief for her loss, but in joy for having you. You have been my son from that moment on, Jon, and I never once found cause to regret that choice. I knew claiming you as my bastard son would not be as simple as I first imagined and I realised later on that I never truly understood the effect it would have on you, but I made a decision to protect you and I stand by it. If it had — or if it will — cost me my own life, it will still have been a worthy trade. You have children of your own, you can appreciate what I am saying._

_I hope you will accept this, accept that I am still your father. I am not saying you should deny Lyanna or Rhaegar, I am just saying you are so especial, son, so loving and so worthy that you deserve more._

_Whatever you will do with this knowledge, know that I am here and I will support you unconditionally. If you want to forget about this and return to the Blessed Island to live in peace with you family, then do so. If you want to claim your birthright in order to protect the Seven Kingdoms from Robert’s neglect and the Lannisters’ greed, I will stand with you._

_I do not know if your mother told you, but she named you. She named you Aegon Targaryen. That name would have been impossible to disguise, so I changed it to protect you. Whichever name you wish to claim from now on is your decision, my son. What will never change is this last one._

_Love,_

_Your father_

 

Jon bit back his tears, looking up from the parchment to the setting sun, pondering all that was laid before him. His mind was swirling with confusion, love, loss, possibilities and impossibilities. Three days later, he called Addam and Arya to his cabin and scratched between Ghost’s ears to finally say his decision.

“I won't let my life be dictated by old and dusty prophecies and ancient journals, like Rhaegar did,” he started. “I also don’t want the Iron Throne or anything to do with it. But I once told Dany that if taking it was the only way to protect our family, then we would burn the Lannisters down but we would take it.”

“So you’re going to fight for the throne?” Arya asked.

“I am going to find my wife and we will sail west. If she agrees that taking the throne is what will protect the pack and the Seven Kingdoms, that is what we will do. We will rally supporters and I will kick Robert Baratheon from the Red Keep. But not as long as it would draw hundreds of thousands of innocents into another bloody war.”

“You cannot avoid this war, Jon,” Addam said. “The Lannisters won’t let you.”

“I won’t draw first blood,” Jon insisted.

“You’re being naïve and unrealistic if you think the Lannisters will bow to you if you ask pretty please,” Arya said. “If you think you can just forget about this, go home, and Cersei will leave you alone if you stay in your Northern island.”

“We will assemble an army and show them we have the military power, then,” Jon said. “Not even they will be so stupid. Tywin Lannister won't fight an army he can’t beat.”

“Let’s find Dany first,” Addam suggested, knowing Jon’s stubbornness would be unmovable. He knew Jon, he didn’t want the Iron Throne, he didn’t want to be king, he just wanted his old life back, and the knight couldn’t blame him for it. Trying to force the crown onto his head would accomplish nothing. “And we can think of next steps on the way west. Your Grace.” He bowed his head and Jon blushed slightly.

“That’s another thing,” he mumbled. “I know my mother named me. But so did my… Ned. I grew up as Jon and I can’t think of myself as Aegon.”

“Me neither,” Arya said.

“I won't take the name Aegon. I'm Jon.”

“Jon Starling or Jon Targaryen?” Addam insisted before he could help himself. Jon looked out the small window.

“We will be in New Ghis soon,” he finally said. “And from there finally to Meereen.”

And like that the other two understood the conversation was over.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dany looked to land, smiled, and closed the spyglass. “That looks like a big camp.”

Daario took the spy glass from her and looked himself. “Well, the horse lord was right. It does look like 10,000 men are waiting for us there. Not as good as his whole khalasar, which counts as much as 40,000 cavalry, but I suppose the whole group couldn’t make it here so fast.”

“Can we take the city with that many men?” she asked.

“If they close themselves inside the gates?” Daario put the spyglass down and turned to her. “No. We don’t have siege weapons, we don’t have trees to build siege weapons, we don’t have men disciplined enough for a siege, and we don’t have the supplies to feed the men we do have for that long.”

“With the men we have on board, we’ll have what, 15,000 men?” Dany insisted.

“Yes. And perhaps the Great Masters of Meereen will have a lot less. But they have high walls to protect them. and probably food stores that will outlast ours for a few moon turns.”

Dany pursed her lips, but didn’t insist any more. She remembered Maester Luwin’s lessons, how the Andals failed to invade the North for thousands of years because they couldn’t get past Moat Cailin. Yes, high walls and swamps were greats lines of defence. Or, in this case, open and bare land.

Disembarking would take a while, since they were doing so out of the city and therefore away from their harbour. She was in the first boat to the beach though, and the Dothraki welcomed her warmly, leading her to the main tent, in the middle of their camp.

“Khaleesi!” Drogo smiled as she entered, standing up. He disguised poorly the once-over he gave her and she smiled as he turned away somewhat embarrassed — in the weeks since they had left Volantis, her belly had grown and her child was finally visible, even if only barely. If he had looked at her with lust for her beauty and strength before, he now looked with respect. “As I said, 10,000 of my fastest riders.”

“I never doubted your word,” Dany smiled. “Have you been here long?”

“Arrived this morning,” he said and she was impressed with the efficiency of the camp she saw, being put up in only a few hours. But then again, she thought, a nomadic people had to be efficient in this manner or they would never arrive anywhere if they spent half the day setting up and taking down their camp.

“Any messages from the city?” she asked and her timing was perfect, because Rakharo led a man into their tent, followed by four slaves carrying trunks. She raised an eyebrow at his gorget. “A bear. I’m going to take a gamble and call you Ser Jorah Mormont.”

He bowed in deference. “I am, Princess,” he replied in the Common Tongue. “I come on the behest of your brother.”

Drogo called for the translator, but Missandei did it since the girl was not there.

“And what does my brother have to say to me?” Dany asked.

“He thanks the Second Sons for delivering on their contract, and bid me to deliver the payment. He thanks the Dothraki for providing extra escort to bring you safely to him and also offers payment for their kindness. And he asks me to humbly escort you into the city so you can finally meet.”

“I see,” Dany said, folding her hands in front of herself and using the drape of her dress to cover her expanded belly. “A very clever ruse with very carefully chosen words, but a very obvious lie. The ship with the former captain of the Second Sons must have arrived by now, with my dragon eggs and without me. Also, you wouldn’t have known the Dothraki were with me unless Mero had told you. And there is the obvious thing: I was raised in the North, Ser, I know the Northern way. We hate lies, they make us uncomfortable. So you see, I can tell, very clearly, that you are, indeed, lying.”

Ser Jorah blushed under his sun-kissed skin. “The King…”

“I have no interest in what my brother has to say for so long as he sends lies to me,” Dany said. “Tell him I will talk to him personally, halfway between the city walls and this camp. Our armies will stay back and we may only bring seven guards with us, as our sacred traditions prescribe.”

“He won’t like that, Your Grace,” Jorah said, uncomfortable.

“I didn’t like to have my children murdered. Be sure to tell him that. And tell him I look forward to meeting him for a parley.”

Jorah bowed and begun to step back. Then he stopped and turned to her.

“After Robert Baratheon betrayed me, I thought serving the rightful king would be what would finally bring me home. I have been following your brother for five years and already I know he won’t arrive at the Seven Kingdoms and, if he does, he won't ever take them. But you… you remind me of your brother,” he said and she frowned. “Rhaegar,” he explained.

“And yet you serve Viserys in Slaver’s Bay,” Dany said. “An apt location given your past crimes. You owe my father your head, Ser.”

Jorah looked down. “I was blinded by love and lust and I made a mistake. Living here… I understand the gravity of my crime and I would do anything to redeem myself.”

Dany took a step forward. “What has Viserys done with the dragons? Has he sold them yet?”

“No. The Astapori arrived yesterday to trade their Unsullied for the three eggs, Your Grace, but the deal hasn’t been done yet.”

“How many Unsullied?” Drogo asked and Missandei rushed to translate.

“Eight thousand. With the Meereenese, you are facing the walls and fifteen thousand,” Jorah revealed.

“Wait,” Dany told Drogo in Dothraki, before he gave away any information. It was imperative now to rescue the eggs. So she switched back to the Common Tongue. “Deliver my message. Tell my brother I hope to see him tomorrow at noon. Then bring me my eggs and I will allow you to show me you truly repent your crimes and, if you do, I will grant you your pardon. I will tell my father to do the same.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jorah went to his knees in gratitude.

“But Ser Jorah,” Dany called as he turned to leave. “As Queen, I will allow you into the Seven Kingdoms. My father is the only one who can allow you into the North.”

He nodded, saddened but understanding. “You really are Ned Stark’s daughter. You could have promised me Bear Island all over again, like Robert did, like Viserys did. In my desperation, I would have followed. But you speak honestly. You give me a hard task, no promise to what I actually want, and yet, I believe you more than I ever did those two.”

“Lies are easy to hear, Ser Jorah, but harder to swallow. I will be expecting you.”

The disgraced knight bowed again and finally left, the four slaves with him following with their heads low, making bile rise on Dany’s throat.

“Do you really believe he will betray your brother? Just like that?” Daario asked.

“Perhaps.” Dany shrugged. “Perhaps not. Viserys already knows I want the eggs, it won't surprise him. What did I have to lose?”

“You are a gambler.” Daario smiled slowly. “So it’s a no in killing the messenger?”

“Why ever would I do that?” she was shocked. “Who would deliver the message?”

“Some say that killing the messenger sends a message,” the sellsword shrugged.

“Not one that can be heard. Certainly not one who can deliver me a prize.” She turned to Drogo. “Can you send four of your men as my escorts tomorrow?” she asked in his tongue.

“It will be my pleasure, Khaleesi,” he replied. “I will be one of them.”

She smiled, thanked him, and then allowed a Dothraki woman to lead her and Missandei to an equally big tent not far away, that was clearly meant for her.

“Your Grace?” Missandei called as Dany sunk into the pillows to one side.

“Yes?” Dany turned to her.

“Can you really? Tell when they are lying?”

“No. Well, my family, yes…” Dany smiled. “Especially my daughter, when she said ‘no, Mama, I did not eat the last cookie’…” Dany blinked away her tears. What she wouldn’t give to be able to give Lyanna one more cookie… Little Addam didn’t like sweets that much, but Tyrion had gotten him addicted to bacon, a habit she had been strongly trying to break. She would give her own life away if she could chastise her son for eating too much bacon again. She cleared her throat, putting her composed mask back on. “But not someone I’ve never met, I can’t. But it was a risk worth taking, wasn’t it?”

Missandei only smiled softly, deciding to not comment on the moment.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Drogo had offered her whichever horse she wanted from his herd, except his own, so Dany, ignoring the stab at remembering her white mare back home, chose a beautiful silver. The sun was unforgiving, as was usual this far south, and Dany frowned as she saw a luxurious tent set up on their meeting spot.

“What is this?” she asked.

“They did it overnight,” Daario said.

_Well, at least we will be in the shade_ , she thought.

“Sweet sister!” Viserys called and Dany looked over. He was tall — though not as tall as Rhaegar had been in her dreams —, had pale skin, silver-blond hair, and pale lilac eyes. Though watery and joyless, they reminded her of Lyanna’s and she had to bite her lower lip to keep her pain inside. He was also a gaunt man with hard lines in his face and a feverish look in his eyes, and Dany couldn’t help but think he had perhaps too much of their father in him. He was dressed in silks and wool, despite of the heat, and it looked like he was keeping a sachet in the sleeve of his tunic to sniff. Given how thin his arms were, Dany was certain the sword at his hip was merely decorative.

“Brother,” she greeted. “Quite an expensive way to speak to me, I must say.”

“Oh, sweet sister, what kind of an older brother would I be if I didn’t rescue you from your gaolers?”

“You would have done a better job if you had aimed at the Usurper’s throat, rather than my children,” she said, dismounting and coming to the tent, discreetly taking in every detail — _be the whole space around you, always_ , was one of Addam’s mantras.

She saw the Archmaester to one side, his face relaxed and his eyes lost, as if she were looking at a simpleton, so she imagined it was some sort of ruse. Next to him, her precious eggs were nestled in the blue velvet of the box Uncle Benjen had carved especially for them, the Starling winter rose proudly set on the underside of the lid. Standing next to it, Jorah only nodded to her — it was innocent enough that one would mistake it for courtesy, but she understood perfectly: he had been unable to come the night before, but he would deliver now. Doreah was curled up on the trunk’s other side, and she had clearly seen better days: one of her eyes was swollen closed, her nose was out of place, and her dress was in rags. There was a middle-aged woman standing nearby and, across the tent, Viserys’ other six guards.

“Bastards of a bastard,” he said, waving away, “they meant nothing.” Dany only looked at him, unflinching. “Come, let’s drink! Let’s toast to our meeting!”

“You murder my children, call them mere inconvenience, and you think I’ll join you for a toast?”

He scoffed, annoyed. “Sweet sister, I was hoping to do this the easy way, but you are making it incredibly difficult! You see, me and the Great Masters, we have a marvellous plan to take back our family’s throne. Come, sit, let me tell you!”

_Ser Barristan was right_ , Dany thought, _Viserys showed signs of taking after our father two decades ago and the years alone in exile have clearly brought it out_. She suddenly remembered her dream with their mother and what she had said: ‘however much I regret this failure’. Viserys offered a cup of wine again, but Dany only raised an eyebrow at it.

“Oh, in the name of the gods! Why must you make everything so hard, like a little brat?” Viserys exclaimed. “You don’t get to censor me! Not when you grew up in a castle with hot food in your belly three times a day! A bastard husband who showered you with jewels, even if he kept you like a pet prisoner! All this time I was alone, going from place to place, looking for true friends to recognise they were dealing with the true king! Plotting to get you free, plotting to get our House and our throne back! So don’t come here whining about the little brats the bastard forced into your belly! They do mean nothing! They were only chains they wrapped around your silly little ankles so you would stay and behave rather than rise against the Usurper. But you are a silly little girl and you don’t even realise how I saved you! I freed you from their claws, I removed the hostages they had against you! And all you can do is sit there, posing as the wronged party.” He snorted and took a large sip of the cup. “See, it’s not poisoned! What kind of a monster do you think I am?”

Dany chose not to reply to what she thought was a rhetorical question. She understood Viserys’ life had been very different from hers. For all of the difficulties she had faced, Catelyn’s bullying, the lords belittling her for her father, the constant threat that the Usurper might call for her head at any moment, she had always had a roof over her head and warm food. She had had love and a family. But none of that justified anything. She felt that odd magnetic pull towards the trunk again, but forced herself to focus on her brother. She accepted the glass and, convinced he wouldn’t be mad enough to poison them both, took a sip of her own. It was warm and it tasted awful, so she quickly put it away.

“Not to your taste, sweet sister?” Viserys asked with a smile.

“Not really. And it’s warm. A good friend would tell you that few things are worse than warm wine.” Dany smiled, remembering Tyrion. He had escaped, certainly. By the time the kidnappers took her, he would have been going out to inspect the village or waking up there to return to the castle. Besides, he had escaped Casterly Rock and a sister hell-bent on killing him. Sellswords would be easy.

“You must tell me how you convinced the savages to help you, sister,” Viserys said, pouring another cup for himself, seeming to be completely recovered from his outburst, as if it had never even happened. “How do you even understand them?” He looked at where Missandei stood next to Dany. “Of course, the translator. The stupid sellsword told me you don’t speak Valyrian,” he tutted, “something we will have to remedy, of course. The whore I sent to teach you said the Usurper forbade you to learn. But it’s not too late. We can’t have the Targaryen Queen ignoring our glorious heritage, now can we?”

“Queen?” Dany asked, starting to feel too hot, and no less because of the betrayal her brother revealed in such a blasé manner.

“Well, of course, sister! How can I be a proper Dragon King if I don’t have a proper Valyrian wife?”

“You mean to marry me?”

“As is tradition in our family!” Viserys exclaimed happily. “Our own parents were brother and sister!”

“And how well did that turn out,” she muttered quietly, but he was too distracted by his delusions to pay attention.

“And of course we will have proper children of Valyrian pure blood!” he said and Dany stiffened. A man who had murdered three children because they were inconveniences wouldn’t be shy to murder a babe for the same reason. “Are you well, sweet sister?” he asked and, as she turned, Dany saw he had a sardonic smile.

“What did you do?” she asked, feeling light-headed. She looked to the glass, alarmed, and Viserys’ grin only grew.

“You see, Mero shared with me you were so sick during your travels. The whore said the stupid captain was keeping her for his own amusement rather than letting her serve you like I ordered her to, so the pathetic girl says she doesn’t know anything. But my friends came up with a theory.” He pulled her arm away and pushed the drape of the dress. “It seems they were right.”

“You gave me moon tea?!” Her belly begun cramping lightly. Her guards stirred, not understanding but gathering enough from her pained face. She quickly told them to stay back.

“What is moon tea?” Viserys asked. “No, don’t bother, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t give it to you. You see our friend here,” he pointed to the woman, “is a maegi, how great is that?” He laughed. “I love this little spell, tell her Mirri, tell her what it does!”

“You are the blood of the dragon,” Mirri Maz Duur said with a slow smile, as if she was very proud of herself and her skills. “From now on, you can only carry a child fathered by a dragon.”

Dany felt her heart race. Jon was a wolf, not a dragon. Their child was a dragon on her side only, he or she hadn’t been fathered by a dragon. The cramping intensified and she curled into herself, trying to get the pain under control. Missandei knelt down next to her, supporting her, and Dany felt her panic rising. She had lost Lyanna, Little Addam, and Aemon, and now this one would never live to see the sun rise. The pain webbed away slowly until she could finally get her breathing under control. Each heartbeat was a painful jab on her shredded heart.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Dany said, gingerly standing up.

“It simply makes things easier,” Viserys said dismissively, as if they were commenting on the weather and not speaking of such a serious matter. “Now we got rid of the little bastard and you will understand that your purpose is to serve our family, to provide our House, the greatest dynasty this world has ever seen, with true heirs!”

“Hold them down,” Dany said in Dothraki and the horse lords, who hadn’t been understanding anything, were only too eager to oblige.

Her command in a foreign tongue gave her guards a moment of surprise in advantage of Viserys’ guards. But what truly threw them was Jorah changing sides at the last minute and taking the maegi prisoner. The Archmaester used the commotion to stand up, unmake his simpleton disguise and rush to Dany.

“Are you in pain, my queen?”

But Dany was distracted, drawn again to the dragon eggs, intuition filling her. “The traitor as well,” Dany said.

Drogo had cornered Viserys against the trunk, Ser Jorah was holding the maegi nearby, and Daario was keeping his arakh over a crying Doreah. In the end, one Dothraki and one Second Son were killed, another sellsword was injured, and all six of Viserys’ guards were dead.

“I'm sorry, my lady,” Doreah sobbed. “I thought… he took so long, I thought he had given up, my lady! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!”

Dany walked to stand in front of her. “So it is true?” she asked but Doreah only cried more and apologised.

“He took me from the pleasure house, my lady! He said if I didn’t do what he wanted, he would send me back there. And he would make sure I regretted it. You don’t… girls out of favour… it’s awful, my lady!”

But Dany couldn’t pity her. What did she think, that Dany would allow her to be sent away to a pleasure house for protecting her family? “You spent five years as my handmaiden, playing with my children, braiding Lyanna’s hair and mending Little Addam’s clothes, and you were capable of conspiring in a plan that had them killed?” Dany was so furious her voice shook.

Doreah begun to shake her head and Viserys, worried she might tell that the attack on the castle had been nothing more than a hallucinogen potion mixed into their water, cut in.

“This is outrageous! You named your bastard after the whore that seduced our brother and cost us our throne!” Drogo didn’t understand the words, but the tone was enough to earn Viserys a fierce slap. “Will you allow this brute to treat me like this?! I am the King of the Seven Kingdoms!”

“You are an exile from the Seven Kingdoms,” Dany said, oddly calm. “You hired mercenaries to kidnap me, murder my lord husband and our children. So for these crimes, I—”

“You cannot judge me!” Viserys exclaimed, outraged. “I am the King!”

“Very well.” Dany was feeling her fury and anger grow exponentially, her blood growing warmer and warmer, closer to a boiling point she knew not what for. “Let us leave the Iron Throne aside. You have taken me from the North and I will ensure Northern justice is dispensed. For the crimes of kidnapping and murder, I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Lady of the Midnight Fortress and the Blessed Island, in the name of Lord Eddard of the House Stark, Warden of the North, find you guilty and sentence you to death.”

“You cannot—!” Viserys was outraged and he lost his grip on his control, trying to advance against Dany. Drogo stopped him, pushing him backwards again and the blond tripped on the trunk, falling to the ground. When he tried to stand up, Drogo stepped on his leg, the bone snapping with a loud sound.

“Stop!” Dany exclaimed in Dothraki as the horse lord prepared to swing his arakh. “In the North, our way is the old way,” she said, looking at the bawling and whimpering mess her brother had become, his bravado all gone in an instant. She couldn’t muster even one ounce of pity for him. “His life is mine to take. I passed the sentence, I will swing the sword.” She repeated it in the Common Tongue so Viserys could understand it. Drogo smiled widely, appreciative.

“Dany, please! Dany, I… I never meant to…” Her brother continued begging, but Dany turned her back to him.

“He won't move, but tie the other two traitors down,” she commanded in Dothraki and the men rushed to obey. “Then go back to camp.”

“But Your Grace…” Missandei started.

“I know what I am doing,” Dany said. She turned to the trunk. “Only death may pay for life,” she whispered, her shattered heart pulsing painfully as she thought of the spark of life that had just gone out inside her womb.

The Archmaester frowned, looking around the tent, then relaxing his face in shocked disbelief. “My queen… I mean… sacrifices to the…”

“Treason is a crime punishable by death. Doreah is therefore sentenced to death,” Dany said. “Murder is punishable by death. The maegi murdered my child, therefore I sentence her to death. This is no mere sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice, Archmaester.” Once the two women were tied down, Drogo offered Dany his arakh, but she only shook her head. “Go back to camp. Or at least get far enough away.”

“How will you kill them?” Drogo asked.

“I am a Targaryen. We face our enemies with fire and blood.”

“Your Grace, are you certain?” Marwyn insisted, understanding what she would do.

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes fixed on the three dragon eggs, more certain than she had ever been. No one had told her, but she knew this was the way. She turned to the elderly man. “I know what I must do, Archmaester. Your heard Kinvara — I am the dragon: the daughter of dragons, the bride of dragons, the mother of dragons.” She reached for the cresset next to them, putting her hand into the flames, welcoming their heat to the renewed awe of her company. “The fire is mine as I am the fire. This is what I must do.”

Marwyn remembered his visit to the Wall and looked over to the shocked man fallen to the ground. “Look at your hand, my queen. This is not the way to kill a dragon.”

“Viserys can die for his crimes once he has witnessed the grandeur of the magic running in our veins,” she replied. “There are three eggs, there will be three deaths: Doreah, the maegi, and my child.”

Marwyn bit his lip, but before he could share his theory on the supposed poison — a theory that would imply revealing Jon Starling’s true parentage — there was a clattering of metal and they turned to look: amazed with his sister’s resistance to the flames, Viserys had crawled on the floor to another cresset and overturned it, making the oil spill and the fire spread across the tent.

“Go! Go, now!” Dany said, pushing her own cresset towards the trunk with the dragon eggs. The people rushed away from the tent, getting the horses and going far enough away from the reach of the fire. Dany went around the meeting place, pushing all cressets and spreading the fire towards the whole improvised structure. Her clothes already burning up, she went to stand before her brother and frowned as she noticed that he was kicking and patting himself, trying to get away from the flames that had already consumed his clothes and proceeded to devour his skin.

“No! No, no, no! Make it stop! Make it stop! I am the Dragon King! I am the Last Dragon!”

“You are no dragon,” Dany said calmly, the flames wrapping around her like a dress, welcoming her within their heat like an old lover. “Fire cannot harm a dragon.”

“Dany! How…” He screamed in pure agony. “How can you do this!”

“I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen,” she said in Valyrian, making Viserys look at her in shock. “I come from the strength of the Fourteen Flames, from the blood and seed of Aegon, the Conqueror. I am the fire and the fire is mine. You… you are weak. And the fire finds you wanting.”

Viserys’ screams joined the maegi’s and Doreah’s as the fire consumed their flesh and finally their hearts gave out. The fire swelled once that happened and, as it consumed everything else in range, Dany heard the distinctive crack of an egg.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!
> 
> This chapter is absolutely huge, so I hope you've enjoyed it. Also hope you liked how Dany now has her dragons.
> 
> Please, do make a writer happy by leaving comments and kudos :D


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troubling news bring a lot of problems to the capital

Ned was in his solar, mulling over the time it was taking to get a reply from Jon, when Jory came in.

“There is a man who would like an audience in an urgent matter, my lord. He says his name is Bronn and he is a sworn sword to Lord Tyrion. He claims something went wrong in the Crossroads Inn and he killed a horse in the effort to get here. Though I will spare you the language he used, my lord.”

 “As if we needed anything else going wrong.” Ned sighed. “Send him in, Jory, please.” The Captain of the Guard did as bid, and Ned couldn’t help but notice, by the sellsword’s disgruntled appearance, that he had certainly been on the road for a while. “Was there a problem? Where is Lord Tyrion?”

“We got to the inn, milord, and I went to get rooms,” Bronn started to tell. “Lord Tyrion went to talk to Ser Jaime. I don’t know how it happened milord, all I know is that I heard the noises and I went back inside to check. They were in a tizzy, they were, she was working them up good. Ser Jaime tried to fight his way out, but there were too many of them, and then one of the knights caught Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime surrendered. The Starling guards tried to stop it, but once they had Lord Tyrion, they could do nothing neither.”

“Wait a moment.” Ned was trying to follow, but the man was rushing and speaking hurriedly. “Who was ‘working them up’? And why and where would she take Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime?”

“Don’t know why, milord, wasn’t there for the beginning and didn’t stick around to find out. She said she was taking them and I knew any Lannister men there would rush here and to Casterly Rock.”

“Tywin Lannister won't abide for kidnapping it’s true. Especially not Jaime’s.” He cursed mentally, thinking of bloody repercussions.

“He might not care for Lord Tyrion, but she took Ser Jaime. From what Tyrion tells me, Lord Lannister will get his golden boy back.”

“Who, Bronn?” Ned asked again. “Where did she take them?”

“Said she was going to Riverrun.”

Ned cursed loudly and long. “I'm sorry. Do you mean that Lady Catelyn did this?”

“Dressed like a septa she was, claiming to be Hoster Tully’s daughter and that she wanted revenge and something about your son being thrown from a tower.”

“She did it for Bran!” Ned cursed again.

“Most of the knights stayed where they were, m’lord, didn’t seem inclined to help her.”

“Of course they did, everyone knows she is a septa now, no longer can she call for justice in the name of Winterfell.” He clenched his jaw, furious.

“That may be, milord,” Bronn went on, “but at least a dozen knights came to help her. Maybe as many as twenty. Most of them from the Vale, some of them wore Riverlands colours.”

“Thank you for your information, Bronn. Jory!” he called and the guard came back in. “See that Bronn has food and a bed. You’re welcome to stay until we know where Lord Tyrion is.” Bronn bowed his head in thanks. “Jory, where is Lady Stark?”

“Out with Lady Sansa, my lord. Should I send for her?”

“Send more guards to meet them. And saddle my horse. I’ll speak with Lord Manderly and go after them myself.”

Ned nearly ran all the way to Lord Manderly’s chambers, and the lord was equally worried at the development.

“I’ll send a raven to Lord Tully, warning him to release the Lannisters as soon as they arrive, and send search parties to persuade Catelyn to do so on the way. We do _not_ need another reason for war, not when we are already waiting for the spark to start it!”

“Of course, Lord Stark. We were waiting for the ships from White Harbour, but in view of new developments…”

“Get the whole fleet ready! We need to send our families up north now! I won't have them caught up in the crossfire. I’ll go into the city to pick up Lady Stark and Lady Sansa and on my return, I will speak with the King. Until then, get everything settled. If you would like to have your granddaughters sent to the Tower of the Hand where security will be tighter, don’t hesitate.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark, I do believe it will be wise. I’ll see to it.”

Ned then rushed down to the stables. He needed to bring Ella and Sansa home immediately!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Cersei threw the cup across the room, spiralling wine all around.

“What did you just say?”

“Lady Catelyn took Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime,” the boy — Cersei didn’t even care to hear his name — repeated. “She claimed she was going to bring them to Riverrun to face trial because they had tried to murder Lord Brandon Stark, years ago in the Blessed Island. First by throwing him down a tower, then sending an assassin.”

“Does she really think she can just crawl out of the hellhole her husband buried her in and kidnap my brother for something that happened five years ago! What proof does she have?!”

“I couldn’t say, Your Grace. All I know is what she claimed. The knights from the Riverlands and the Vale jumped up to help and then they were off. I rode here as fast as I could to deliver these news.”

“Your Grace?” her handmaiden, Bernadette, called. “If I might interfere, Lord Stark hasn’t been seen today, so I would presume he is in the Tower of the Hand. But Lady Stark and Lady Sansa were seen leaving the Red Keep. They were said to be going to buy fabric for new dresses for the girl’s trousseau.”

“Have the guards called and my litter prepared. I’m going to meet them and escort them back to the Maidenvault. Let’s see how fast Lord Stark will work to tell his brainless former wife to stop meddling into what doesn’t concern her when I have his current wife and eldest daughter as my guests.”

“But, Your Grace…” Tregar, who was serving as her personal guard, cut in. “The King…”

“The King will be too busy with one of his whores. Or perhaps a flock of them. Have more men block the way into the Maidenvault and I will fetch the wolf bitches.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ella frowned as soon as she and Sansa left the store, seeing Jory and another four guards with him, in addition to the two that had come escorting her and Sansa earlier. “What happened?”

“We must return to the Tower, my lady. Lord Stark will catch up with us on the way, but we best be on the way back now.”

“Is anyone hurt, Jory?” Sansa asked as they went to the litter.

“No. Lord Stark will tell you the rest.”

“Well, well, well, what a coincidence!” Cersei called, her litter blocking the street on one side and the red cloaks with her blocking the passage to the other. “Lady Stark and Lady Sansa. You know, I was just thinking that we haven’t met since my return to the capital. It is about time we have some tea, wouldn’t you agree? Why don’t you join me in the Maidenvault?”

Ella squeezed Sansa’s hand, trying to communicate the need to be calm and silent. “Oh, we would be delighted, Your Grace. It is such an honour, to have tea with the Queen. We will be very happy to join you on the morrow.”

“Oh, you misunderstood me, Lady Stark. I meant now.”

“Oh! I am so terribly sorry, Your Grace! Of course you did, you must forgive me for not understanding you. And dear gods, this is embarrassing, but I am terribly sorry that we must refuse. You see, we had already promised the High Septon to deliver some clothes and food to the Sept and we are on our way there. We mustn’t be late, I'm sure you will be ever so gracious to understand, Your Grace.”

Cersei smirked. “You think you are so smart, don’t you? A common, lowborn whore who seduced a Great Lord into your bed and forced him into marriage.” She started to walk closer to them and Ella dropped the act, visibly stepping in front of Sansa. “But I don’t care who you think you are or to whom you’ve opened your legs. You _will_ come with me and be my guests in the Maidenvault until Lord Stark has delivered. So get into your litter like a good little whore and have your men follow me. Lady Sansa will come with me. And Lord Stark’s dog,” she turned to Jory, “can tell your master to inform Lady Catelyn that I have her daughter in my hands before she does anything stupid.”

Ella was confused, but it was clear that something very grave was happening. What had Catelyn done? More importantly, what had she done while she was supposed to be locked up in the Sept of Baelor?

“With all due respect, Your Grace,” Jory said, unflinching, “but I shall escort Lady Stark and Lady Sansa to the Tower of the Hand. If you have a grievance with Lord Stark, I will ask him to meet with you.”

“Ser Gregor,” Cersei said and he stepped forward. “Make sure I will leave with the girl. I don’t care what you do with the rest.”

Gregor Clegane smiled evilly and the Stark guards unsheathed their swords, knowing him by fame. A few other red cloaks stood behind the Mountain to join in the ‘fun’. Ella took Sansa’s hand and stepped back, subtly pushing her out of the way of the brawl of crossing swords. A yell and a gushing sound, followed by Sansa’s piercing scream made her turn back to the fight and she felt like a punch had just been delivered to her stomach. Jory’s body flew back and landed near them, his skull bashed in, blood starting to pool on the pavement. The fight continued, but Ella knew their men were at a great disadvantage. Apologising mentally, she picked up Jory’s sword from where it had fallen and turned, pulling on Sansa’s hand. Lancel Lannister blocked their path.

“And where do you ladies think you’re going?”

“We’re going to the Tower of the Hand,” Ella said firmly though she was feeling anything but. “Please step aside.” She lifted Jory’s sword.

Lancel smiled. “Lady Stark, please, I would not like to hurt—”

Ella stepped forward and attacked. The man was so distracted, thinking she was no threat, that his sword flew easily out of his hand and, while he was busy being baffled, Ella clubbed him on the head with the pommel. He fell sprawled on the ground, unconscious.

“How did you—?” Sansa started, shocked.

“My brother,” Ella said, pulling on her hand again. “Come on, we need to go, I can take an easy one, not a skilled swordsman.”

They managed to turn the corner and run down a narrow street, the smallfolk jumping out of their way. Ella was trying to lead them to the feet of Aegon’s Hill, to one of the secret passages she knew that would lead them straight to the kitchens, from where she could sneak them around to the Tower of the Hand. Screaming smallfolk announced the arrival of Gregor Clegane, who came out of a street ahead and blocked their path. Ella froze, knowing she couldn’t fight him. She tightened her hold on the sword out of sheer desperation, but she didn’t even raise it. He didn’t have his, but the Mountain didn’t need a sword to take down an enemy.

And then the sun reflected off a shiny surface and the Mountain groaned in pain, his knee bending a bit as a massive weight collided against him. He turned and Silver crouched in an attack position, his teeth bare, and growling. Man and direwolf engaged in combat, but it was visible that Ser Gregor wasn’t winning as he was used to. Silver finally managed to claw his face, leaving four deep gauges on one side. The Mountain faltered and the direwolf used the moment to take a bite off his calf. The shin guard afforded some protection, but the man staggered anyway. Even though it looked like Silver was winning that round, Gregor Clegane was not one to run from a fight, much less allow defeat from ‘a beast’. But then the smallfolk begun throwing empty canisters and rotten food on the knight and he faltered, shocked, running away with a limp. Silver turned around and growled, but it was an elderly man who approached.

“We don’t like ‘im,” the man said. “We won't be havin’ ‘im hurtin’ women and children no more.”

“Thank you,” Ella said. “Thank all of you. If there is anything—”

Silver cut in, whimpering in pain, faltering. He fell on the ground, moaning in pain. Ella felt her heart fail a beat as she knelt next to him. His eyes were fluttering, two different shades of grey interchanging.

“You need to break the connection,” Sansa said, shaking, kneeling next to her. “If you break the connection, Silver will lead us to Father.”

Ella tried shaking the direwolf, but it didn’t work. An elderly woman came and opened a flask of some strong drink under his nose and he jumped back startled.

“Silver, where is he?” Ella asked.

But the direwolf only got to his feet and vanished back down the street they had come from. Sansa stood up and begun following faster than Ella could stop her. So she just cursed under her breath and ran after the girl. By the time they got to where Cersei was standing shocked next to her litter, Silver was finishing off the rest of the red cloaks. Sansa screamed again and started crying, kneeling next to Ned, who was bleeding on the ground. Silver ripped the throat of the last red cloak and crouched in front of Cersei, ready to attack, his muzzle dripping blood. The Queen was terrified. All of her guards had been taken out, Ser Gregor was nowhere to be found, and a direwolf was ready to bite her throat open.

“Get back into your littler,” Ella said furiously, her voice dangerous but still loud and clear, “and go back to the Red Keep before I rip your face off with my bare hands.”

“I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!” Cersei exclaimed, though her voice shook.

“And I am merely the Lady of Winterfell. But you just threatened to take me and my stepdaughter against our will, attacked and killed my men, and attacked the Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King. You, Cersei of House Lannister, started something you are going to need your papa to fix. So I suggest you put your tail between your legs like a good little cub and scurry back to call for help.”

Silver growled louder and Cersei was scared into moving, vanishing inside her litter quickly. Ella barely waited for the servants to pick it up and off the ground before turning back to Ned. A woman was already kneeling next to Sansa, who had ripped a chunk of her skirts off to wrap around the spear through her father’s thigh.

“I’ve seen wounds, milady, I know we shouldn’t be taking it out,” the woman said. “But he needs your maester.”

“Excuse me, Lady Stark,” a merchant came closer, two men carrying a slab of wood behind him. “I offer to carry Lord Stark back to the castle.”

“Have we met before?” Ella asked, frowning. He looked vaguely familiar.

“I…” the merchant swallowed dry. “My father did your son and grandson an unkindness, my lady. Lord Stark allowed me and my family to keep our store. I would like to repay his kindness however I can.”

_The merchant who tried to kill Cregan and Little Addam_ , Ella remembered. She nodded, thanking him for the help, and then ripping her own skirts enough to mount on the horse. Sansa did the same and they all followed as Silver led the way to the Red Keep and the City Guard finally arrived to put the place in order.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon sat up in a jump, his heart racing in his chest. He had been lying on his back on the bow of the _Wintersong_ again, fascinated by the red comet that had appeared on the sky overnight. Ghost, who had been lying next to him, enjoying a large bone the cook had given him, sat up and was just as alarmed.

“What is it?” Addam asked, sitting a few steps away cleaning his sword.

“There is something wrong… I think it’s Silver…”

Arya climbed the ladder in a rush, her braid undone and her hair failing loose and messy down her back. “You feel it too? It’s Silver, right?”

“I think if it was coming from the North it would feel stronger, because there are more wolves there,” Jon said. He was instantly even more worried: what if Robert had died and the Lannisters were seizing control? His f… N… U… His father and stepmother and siblings would be the first obstacle to them and therefore…

“Nothing is going to happen,” Arya said, as if she was trying to convince herself as much as them. “By now the Northern lords and everyone one else really should be arriving for Sansa’s wedding. Even if they won't have brought their armies, they’ll have brought enough guards that… what?” She was confused with their expression.

“The wedding was postponed, Arya,” Addam said. “Ella said that it made no sense to have it when Dany had been kidnapped and we left in pursuit.

“This is all my fault!” Jon exclaimed, dejected. “Father would have left King's Landing after what Joffrey did! He stayed because he was trying to protect me and Dany and the—”

“He was protecting the whole realm from them, Jon,” Addam said. “If you think the Lannisters wouldn’t have brought war to the realm regardless of you and Daenerys, you are mistaken. Tywin has always been power-hungry and he has been climbing the social ladder ever since he and Aerys became friends. You should have seen his reaction when the King told him that he was a servant and Rhaegar was a prince and a prince simple does not marry the daughter of a servant. Tywin can’t manage to sit his own behind on the throne as king, but he will not rest until he’s put the Lannister banner in the Red Keep. Alone, not beside a stag.” Jon huffed, unconvinced.

“I agree. Also, not everything is your fault, don’t let your head inflate just because you get to wear a crown now,” Arya said.

“I'm not wearing a crown!” Jon snapped.

“Well, you’ll have to, eventually.” Arya shrugged. “Though do us all a favour and get rid of that monstrosity of melted swords, would you? Honestly, it’s no wonder kings won’t stop getting cut in those poking ends!”

Jon froze as he paced taking a hand to his forearm. Addam smiled and looked down to the sword in his lap to disguise it.

“There’s an old wives’ tale about the Iron Throne,” the knight said. “You know it was forged with the swords of the men Aegon, the Conqueror, defeated. He had Balerion breathe fire on them and, as such, the swords have absorbed the magic of the dragon’s fire. They say unworthy kings get cut in the throne: Maegor was swallowed by it and Aerys got cut so often that people mocked him as King Scab. But good kings can run their hands over the blades and they won't harm him. Jaehaerys I, for example, he wrote that he had never gotten cut. That day you brought Lyanna to introduce her to Court—”

“Don’t!” Jon cut in. “Don’t go there!”

“I'm just saying. Ser Barristan told me what he saw, since he was much closer than the rest of us. Robert Baratheon bled, your skin didn’t even break.”

“I am not a king!” Jon insisted. “I don’t have what it takes to be a king! I hate politics!”

He stomped to the main deck and then down the ladder to the cabins.

“Why must he be so stubborn?” Arya wondered.

“Most people get stubbornness from one or two parents — and Northerners are a stubborn bunch. Jon got it from _three_ parents. And he kind of was more stubborn than death itself. He’ll get there eventually.”

Arya shrugged and looked up to the dark sky. “What do you think it means?” she asked. “The red comet.”

“I can’t believe I'm actually going to say this, but it was predicted in a prophecy,” Addam said and Arya threw him a patronising look. “Trust me, I know how it sounds. But Rhaegar believed fiercely in this prophecy, sometimes he wouldn’t shut up about it, so I know it quite well. It foretold the coming of a promised prince…”

“The Prince Who Was Promised. Aye, Jon filled me in.”

“Well, it also said that this prince’s birth would be heralded by a bleeding star. Maester Aemon thought it meant Dawn. Well, your father and I did get in a bit of a scuffle when he got to the Tower of Joy,” Addam explained when she was confused. “He managed to disarm me, take Dawn from my hands. After our little meeting party, the sword was stained with blood and Ned carried it up to where Lyanna had just given Jon birth.”

“Dawn, a sword forged from the heart of a star,” Arya said. “A bleeding star.”

“See, that’s why you can’t trust prophecies, little wolf. It can mean one thing or it can mean a thousand.” He pointed to the bleeding star above their heads.

She chuckled. “Are you gonna call me little wolf forever?”

“Don’t worry, your aunt also hated it. Until she beat me and she became She-Wolf.”

“I’ll take it as a challenge, Uncle.”

“See that you do, little wolf.” He laughed as he ruffled her hair and went back to where he was sitting, cleaning an unimpressive sword.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Benjen was pacing incessantly for over an hour now and Ayla was doing her best to not let it drive her crazy. Distracting the children had been an ordeal, what with the direwolves being so agitated, but her husband was certainly not helping, especially because Midnight was equally as agitated.

“Love, please, wearing off the furs won’t help anything,” she said.

“There is something wrong in King’s Landing,” he insisted for what seemed like the tenth time. “I know there is!”

“I know, love, so you have said and I believe you. You’ve sent a raven already and, unfortunately, other than waiting for a reply or for your brother to send a raven of his own, there is nothing we can do.”

“I hate this!” he said furiously. “Sitting back, waiting to know what happened! I’m telling you, I’m not doing this again! I’m not going to stay behind, sitting comfortably like a fat wolf in a castle again when all shit goes to the hells!”

Ayla sighed, but couldn’t very well blame him. “We don’t know if shit is indeed going to the hells,” she said and he blushed, seeming to realise the language he had used.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “But we know Cersei is there. What if she…”

“Cersei wouldn’t be mad enough to attack them without cause while Robert is still breathing,” Ayla pondered.

“What if she’s already killed Robert?”

“Benjen, what if they already exploded the wildfire, what if a gigantic wave came from the Blackwater and swallowed the whole city? We don’t know what’s happened. And, until we do, it’s useless to pace around and pull your hair out with worry.”

He smiled softly and pulled her into a hug. “Sometimes I ask myself what great deed I did to please the gods so much they would gift me the most wonderful woman of all.”

She chuckled, embarrassed, and only hugged him in response. They stayed like that for a long while until Sam came into the sitting room.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all, Sam,” Ayla said, noticing the book in his hands. “What did you find out?”

“Lady Melisandre was talking about her prophecy again, saying that the red comet heralded the rise of the Prince Who Was Promised. So I went to the library,” he continued, making the other two smile, “and found out that, in old Valyrian texts, it symbolised dragons, the coming of dragons.”

“Well, now that promises to make a lot of people nervous,” Benjen said.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The old maester was used to the little thrill of magic. Aemon had felt it for the first time when he was but a lad, when he accidentally let a finger or two touch the open flame of a candle and, in the later years, he felt it more and more as he dipped his hand into the fireplace to try and keep his very old bones warm in this inclement weather. He felt it emanating from the Wall sometimes, once he was close enough to touch the ice at its foundation. The night Melisandre had brought Jon back, the air had been sizzling with it, like now. He heard excited voices and “wows” coming from the courtyard so he made his way there. Jeor Mormont was at the catwalk of the King’s Tower, looking at the black brothers and the Free Folk down there.

“What is causing the amazement?” Aemon asked, his old blind eyes uncooperative even if his blood was warmer than he ever remembered feeling.

“A comet in the sky,” Mormont said. “It appeared overnight, but now that it’s dark again the boys can see it better.”

“A comet?” Aemon asked, a smile forming slowly.

“Aye, a red comet,” Mormont said, then turning to the maester. “Does it mean anything, Aemon?”

“Yes… oh, yes, my old friend, it does mean something.” His smile grew as much as his lips could manage. “It means that the dragons are back.”

“You can't mean actual dragons!” The Lord Commander was shocked.

“Would you write a raven to Tarly, my old friend? I would like to be informed the moment they hear back from my niece!”

Jeor Mormont only nodded, too shocked to speak. Actual dragons. It couldn’t be, could it?

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Each grain of sand down the hourglass seemed like an eternity as Ella sat waiting for news. Bertha was next to her, staring at the wall unseeing, as if numb to the rest of the world. The news about Jory’s death was shocking to say the least and at this very moment Ella could not deny that she related: Maester Byren had been tending to Ned’s wound ever since their return to the Tower of the Hand and now, hours later, there were still no news. Finally, Alyn came up the stairs and said that the King and Queen were here and demanded to speak with her. Taking a deep breath and trying to summon all of her patience, she stood up and went down the stairs rather than allowing them up.

“Ella,” Robert greeted as soon as she appeared, his face filling with fury once his eyes looked her over and noticed the tears and stains of blood in her dress. “I would like to know how Ned is doing.”

She took a deep breath and looked at him, trying to hide her disgust. “I couldn’t tell you, Your Grace, the maester is still tending to him.”

“If he tripped while leaving a brothel—” Cersei started, sparking Ella’s fury.

“How is Ser Lancel, my queen? Has he recovered from the blow to the head I gave him while he tried to take me and Lady Sansa by force? I’m certain his ego must be wounded for having lost a sword fight to a lady in skirts.”

Robert smiled for a moment, but then it contorted into a furious grimace again. “So, Lancel was trying to get the ladies to protect them from Ned stumbling drunk from a brothel, that’s the tale you want to spin?” he sneered. When Cersei opened her mouth to speak, he took a menacing step in her direction, waving his finger in the air. “You shut up! You don’t get to speak!”

“Lady Catelyn kidnapped my brother!” the Queen insisted.

“She kidnapped _both_ your brothers, Your Grace,” Ella poked. “And Lord Stark had already sent his men to undo it, agreeing it was absurd. I still fail to see how that would entitle you, in your own words, to keep me and Lady Sansa as your ‘guests’ in the Maidenvault until Lord Stark delivered.”

“You bloody stupid… woman!” Robert bellowed and Ella wanted to roll her eyes. “How dare you even think of such a thing!”

“Their beast slaughtered my men!” Cersei yelled back.

“Well, your beast slaughtered mine first,” Ella stated.

Cersei snorted. “See! She admits to it herself! So yes, I told my men to defend me! If Lord Stark fell on his own sword—” Robert roared in fury and gave her a sound slap to the face, so strongly that she staggered a step back.

“I shall wear this as a badge of honour!” Cersei spoke lowly and threateningly. “So people can see the true nature of their king!”

“Wear it in silence or I’ll honour you again, you fucking entitled brat!” Robert was so furious he was breathing hard. “You can't even come up with a reasonable lie! So the wolf killed all of your men, did it? Then who attacked Ned? You? And how dare you give the order to attack the Hand of the King?!” Robert was as red as a tomato now. “Shut up! Don’t speak! I don’t want to hear any more of your poison! Ella, you tell me what happened!”

 “Silver was protecting me and Lady Sansa after Ser Gregor Clegane had bashed in the skull of Lord Stark’s Captain of the Guard, only because he said he must escort me and Lady Sansa here and not to the Maidenvault,” Ella started slowly, worried the King would have a heart attack right there. “Then, after Ser Gregor and the other red cloaks were done killing the Stark guards, Silver stopped the remaining red cloaks from attacking Lord Stark, who was already wounded. You might remember, _Queen Cersei_ , that Silver didn’t attack you. I sent you well on your way back.”

“Enough of this!” Robert exclaimed. “The wolf has proven time and time again it only protects. It attacks only when there is a threat. No one will be coming after the wolf!”

“We’ll see about that,” Cersei muttered.

“We will indeed,” Ella snapped.

“I said enough!” Robert yelled. “Queen Cersei will make a public apology and House Lannister will pay for damages and compensations!”

“No amount of gold will cover the damage of the boys and girl who will grow up without a father,” Ella said. “Simply because the Queen felt like she could do as she pleased.” Her brain was racing, her heart stuttering as she worked to engineer an escape route.

“I know, there is nothing that can compare or replace a father in a man’s life,” Robert said and there was emotion in his voice, but Ella simply couldn’t care. “The Crown will be responsible for their education and, once they are of age, I will take them as my own squires.”

“A high honour, to be sure, Your Grace,” Ella said, hiding her anxiety, “but I’m afraid we must refuse. Jory Cassel’s wife decided to return to Winterfell to bury her husband’s remains at home. The boys will go with her and they will remain in Winterfell, safe and under the protection of House Stark.”

The statement also worked as a jab to the lacking protecting provided by the ‘Crown’, but Ella was more concerned with having a safe way to load the ship and not arise suspicions that trunks were leaving the Tower of the Hand. By the time they realised House Stark had sailed off together with their household members, they’d be halfway out of the Blackwater Bay.

Silver cut into the moment by limping down the stairs, letting out a small pained moan at every step. He stopped still a few steps short of the landing, but looked at Ella and blinked, before climbing back upstairs. She exhaled heavily, dropping the façade and using the table for support as her knees wobbled with the weight that was removed from her shoulders.

“You must excuse me, but I must ask you to leave,” she said in a shaky voice. “Lord Stark is awake and I must see to him.”

“And you know that because the beast came here and winked at you?” Cersei sneered.

“Alyn, escort Queen Cersei out of here,” Ella gave the order, cholera filling her as she stared into the other woman’s cynical and poisonous green eyes. “She is not welcome and she will _not_ be granted entrance, no matter how many times she squeals that she is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I want to see Ned!” Robert exclaimed.

Ella rolled her eyes but didn’t have it in her to argue anymore. She began climbing the stairs and didn’t react as she heard Cersei cursing and Robert ordering the guards to drag her out if need be. Then the King followed her as she bypassed the sitting room — she didn’t want to disturb Bertha — and went to their bedchambers.

Silver had jumped onto the bed and was lying next to Ned, Maester Byren was to the side, cleaning up his tools and potions. Ella sat delicately on the bed on the side opposite Silver, taking her husband’s hand carefully in hers.

“Hey, can you focus on me for a moment?”

“A… Ash…”

“Shhh…” she cut in. “It’s me, my love. It’s Ella.”

Ned’s eyes focused as he blinked them open. “You’re… safe…” he was slurring, as if drunk.

“I’ve given him milk of the poppy, my lady,” Maester Byren said. “He will be incoherent for a while.”

“Sansa and I are safe, love,” Ella said softly, soothing him. “You just rest now.”

“Leave… go…” Ned mumbled.

“We’ll be alright now, love. You just rest.”

He grew agitated, though, and the maester forced him to swallow another potion. “His fever is rising,” he explained. “We must keep it down.”

Ella nodded, picking up a cloth to bathe Ned’s forehead.

“What happened to him?” Robert asked.

“The red cloaks put a spear through his leg,” Ella said without caring to use minced words.

“Fucking lions!” Robert cursed. “I’ll make them pay!”

“I didn’t see it,” she continued, undisturbed by his fury. “After Cersei told the Mountain to take Sansa, the guards went against him. After Jory fell, I took his sword, knocked Lancel out of the way, and tried to run. But the Mountain caught up with us. Silver showed up and protected us, then the smallfolk started throwing rotten food and Ser Gregor ran away.”

“Why would the smallfolk meddle?” Robert asked, genuinely confused.

Ella clenched her jaw, but then she was too furious to care. “Because, like Ned, they don’t abide by the slaughter of innocent children or the rape of innocent women,” she bit through clenched teeth.

“That was over twenty years ago,” Robert said and, as she turned, she saw he didn’t like the jab. “And that doesn’t matter. That was war.”

“Your people remember. After all, how many of their own wives and children didn’t perish at the hands of that false knight during the Sack?”

“The Lannister army did what it had to do to secure the capital,” Robert insisted and Ella clenched her hands into a fist. “What happened after Ser Gregor ran away?” Robert asked and Ella wanted to scoff. It was so typical of him, to brush off a subject that didn’t please him. But she didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to show how much she cared about the innocent people Gregor Clegane had killed in the Red Keep.

“Silver led us back to Ned. He was already wounded and, by the time Sansa and I caught up, Silver was taking out the rest of the red cloaks trying to harm Ned even more. I sent Cersei back before I did something stupid myself.”

“I won't let this go unpunished,” the King promised. “Ned is like a brother…”

Ella did scoff now. “A brother you don’t value.”

“Of course I do! How dare you—”

“Do you?” She asked, standing up to face him. “Have you tried talking to him ever since Joffrey died?”

“We spoke a few times…” Robert mumbled, but then his righteous indignation returned. “This is a matter between me and Ned!”

“You spoke a few times when you needed to talk about the Seven Kingdoms. I'm not saying Ned made it any easier for you, Your Grace, but not once since that day have you tried to speak to your friend outside of the political roles you both occupy. Oh, of course, you summoned him and commanded him to come and have a drink.”

“And he didn’t come!” Robert was getting flustered.

“Because he didn’t want a drink! He wanted an apology! You put his son at risk, you didn’t care what harm would befall Robb, so long as Ned was safe! You were selfishly worried about what _you_ wanted, not how Ned would feel!” She threw at him and the King looked down, pursing his lips. “He wanted his friend to recognise he had made a mistake, that he had overlooked an important ‘detail’, but you never did. You were too busy being right and having drinks.”

“My friendship with Ned is our business, Lady Stark,” Robert said coldly. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“It really doesn’t,” she said, sitting back down and changing the towel on Ned’s forehead. She would send for the kitchens for a bit of ice, a cold compress would fight the fever much better, she thought.

“I’ll send Cersei back…” Robert changed the subject after the silence stretched.

“Ned won't thank you for it. I don’t know why,” she lied, “but he wanted to keep her here until Ser Jaime returned.”

“Why did Catelyn take them?” Robert asked. “That was a senseless thing to do! What was she even doing in the Riverlands? Why were Tyrion and Jaime together? I thought the Kingslayer was back on Dragonstone.”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Ella said drily. “Jory came to get me and Lady Sansa, he might have known something, but we’ll never know now. And obviously Ned is in no condition to tell us.”

Robert looked to his friend, lying there on the bed and fury filled him. “I’ll send the red coats out of the city, not one of them is going to be allowed to stay. Then I’ll keep Cersei locked up in the Maidenvault. Until Ned is better and Ser Jaime is back.”

“A wise decision, Your Grace,” Ella said, not turning away. When the silence stretched again, the King left the room, his mind a whirlwind of worry and fury.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> Hope you enjoyed this one and, as always, I look forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments and feeling your love in kudos form :)
> 
> Also, GreedofRage gave me an awesome new rendering of Longclaw, which I've added to the Summaries under House Starling. Do check it out, because it's awesome!


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany makes plans, Jon gets clarity, Ella plots, and a new player comes into the game.

Missandei was not in the least surprised when the Queen requested that her bathing water be heated to a scalding temperature: after finding her this morning sitting among the charred remains of the tent, no one could deny fire presented no threat to her.

Once the fire had been seen from the camp, a lot of people had come closer to see if they could help, but then were just as shocked to discover that it had been the Queen’s doing. And it had been quite the image, when the sun broke, waking up the group that had been sitting at a distance, and they went to check, to find her sitting there, covered in soot but with the three little dragons perched on her. Dragons. Actual dragons, the creatures from legend.

Ser Jorah had quickly taken off his cloak and covered her with it, but no one had cared about the Queen’s body, too busy amazed by the hatchlings. Not that nudity meant much in Essos, especially to the Dothraki. Suffice to say, the Dothraki revered her even more now, the silver Khaleesi from the west who faced her enemies with fire and blood. When she had asked for a bath, rather than complain about the difficult logistics it involved, they set to work getting water and heating it up like it was the highest honour.

Now Daenerys was sitting back in the tub, relaxing for the first time since she had been snatched for her home, truly enjoying a proper bath ever since her late-night rendezvous with Jon in their bathing chamber. The memory was painful. She passed her hand over the still-present slight curve in her belly.

“Maybe the spell was a ruse, Your Grace,” Missandei said softly, carefully washing Dany’s long silver-blonde tresses. “Your belly is still firm.”

“I don’t have any more hope to hold on to, Missandei,” Dany was equally quiet. She turned to watch the dragons as they played with each other in an old trunk they had been gifted — she had regretted that Uncle Benjen’s beautiful gift had gone up in smoke, but it had served a purpose. Dany would never lock them inside, obviously, but it provided enough containment while they were still too little to fly. “What do they eat, do you think?”

“I would say meat, Your Grace. But I couldn’t say for certain.”

Dany nodded and asked one of the Dothraki nearby to fetch some. She was melancholically silent as she left the bath once the water grew tepid, while Missandei dried her hair, and as she dressed.

“Archmaester,” she greeted, though there was no life in her voice. “I hope my brother didn’t treat you poorly.”

“Oh, Your Grace, I knew what your brother would want from me. Knowledge about the Seven Kingdoms, to use me for my wisdom. So, as the boat carried us to the ship that night in Volantis, I ‘lost my balance’ and fell on the water. By the time they pulled me out, I faked I had drunk too much water and there was irreparable damage. I must say, being a simpleton is a very hard task, but I managed it. If I might, Your Grace?” The man offered, seeing her struggle to offer the cubes of meat to her newest children.

The Archmaester took a twig and made it catch on fire by touching it to the brazier, making a torch of sorts. He then touched it to the meat, slowly cooking it. The black dragon, already the biggest, cawed and approached cautiously, nosing in curiously to feel the fire and how it was cooking the meat.

“I can have it cooked—” Missandei started.

“No, no, that would be counterproductive!” Marwyn said.

Dany smiled. “You’re teaching them they have to set their food on fire,” she said, amazed.

“Exactly, my queen. They’re newborns, they don’t know how by themselves. And by the time they learnt, they might have starved. That’s why mothers stay nearby their hatchlings. I meant dragon mothers, Your Grace, not the human kind of dragon. Besides, children love to show off to their parents. As soon as they’re capable of breathing fire, they will, to please you, and so you may stop cooking it for them. They’ll make the leap and feed themselves.”

“But they’re dragons,” Missandei said, “not children.”

“Dragons are not mindless beasts,” Marwyn explained. “They are intelligent, some books say even more intelligent than men. You’ll see. But this is neither here nor there, my queen. I want to speak to you about the maegi…”

“I will not hear false hopes, Archmaester,” Dany stated clearly.

“I am the one who first taught her magic, Your Grace,” Marwyn confessed. “Though I obviously did not teach her such an atrocious spell.”

“The apprentice learns what he can from the master, Archmaester, and the master cannot be held accountable for lessons not taught,” Dany said after a moment, trying her best to keep the hurt from her voice.

“Very graceful and wise of you, Your Grace. But you see, I don’t believe the spell worked as they hoped it would.”

“I know the pain I felt, Archmaester. I will not hear of false hope,” Dany repeated in a monotone.

“My queen, you said there were three eggs, so there would be three sacrifices. You said that because you believed your brother wouldn’t be harmed by the fire. But he was. So I must tell you…”

“Archmaester, please, I beg of you. I can’t… I can’t manage any more pain. I have lost my lord husband, my daughter, and my two sons. I felt the pain of losing this child. And all because my brother took after our father and was blinded by his own ambition. Unless my belly grows enough for me to feel this child alive inside of me, I won’t accept anything else.”

Marwyn nodded and decided to let her have this moment. What he had, after all, was a fervent hope. If he had known of the potion, if he had known it was in the wine… he would have knocked the glass off her hand and hope her guards could protect him. Now, he was left with the hope that there was enough dragon blood in Jon Starling to fool the potion and allow the child to still thrive.

“I offer my wisdom and my council, Your Grace,” Marwyn said. “It’s been long enough that we can’t claim to have any proper and accurate information, but I have read enough about dragons as I studied the higher mysteries.”

“Thank you, Archmaester. I take great solace that I shall have your council. I am aware of this conspiracy against my family, so I will not trust Pycelle.”

“As much as I understand your position, Your Grace, only the Citadel can choose a Grand Maester. You may refuse Pycelle’s council and ask for mine, but unless the Citadel changes it… a monarch has no power on who the Grand Maester is.”

“I see,” Dany said, pausing for a moment. “There are still many leagues between here and Westeros and then I doubt Robert Baratheon will make way too easily. Let’s not think of it now. What happened to the sellsword captain once you arrived in Meereen?”

“Killed,” the Archmaester said. “And his head is on a spike. Prince Viserys was only too excited as the ship approached, hoping to find a dainty little princess profusely thanking him for the rescue. Once he saw you were not amongst the arrivals, the guards took his weapons and Mero into custody and led us all to the Great Pyramid. Mirri, the maegi, she recognised me and Viserys was happy at least that he would have a maester at his service — what only made me happier about my deception. Mero was questioned and obviously enlarged the truth to suit himself. He said the Dothraki had attacked at sea, sunk their ships, and taken you for prisoner. He had managed to escape with only the flagship and the dragon eggs.”

“The Dothraki don’t sail,” Dany stated. “I should know because I had enough of a hard time to convince a few of them to join me on my ships.”

“A point that was quickly made and that sealed the doom for the Titan’s bastard. Viserys commanded his guards to rip out Mero’s tongue right there. Then he saw Doreah thrown nearby and ordered her to tell him her side of the story. She told the truth, or the truth as she knew it: the Dothraki attacked the harbour, but you seemed to be in control, because you prevented a horse lord from attacking one of the sellswords turncoats. Viserys was not happy, but ordered Mero’s execution and dragged Doreah to his chambers by her hair. I was given quarters as well and for days he called me to his solar and got increasingly angry because I posed as helpless. Then a scout brought news from Volantis, that you had convinced several Dothraki to follow you in the ships and a host was riding hard in this direction. The Great Masters thought you came to conquer the city, but Viserys was convinced you were coming with another army so he could win the Seven Kingdoms — he was certain your ‘escape’ had been because Mero was rude and threatened you instead of telling you he had been tasked with bringing you to safety. When the Dothraki set camp, the Masters were nervous, but agreed that giving them a large amount of gold would protect their city. Ser Jorah was sent with instructions as to how to proceed if he was met with only the Dothraki or with you.”

“And once Ser Jorah returned with my request of parley?”

“Viserys was arrogant, my queen. He thought that the Masters had fifteen thousand men and they would slaughter your ‘army of savages’. Even when scouts said you also had fifteen thousand men, Viserys thought the soldiers would beat you because the Dothraki were too savage to be any good.”

“I assume the Great Masters were not as arrogant.”

“No, my queen, they weren’t. They knew the Dothraki posed a very real threat and didn’t want to even risk facing it. They managed to convince your brother that meeting with you for the parley would be the best way to rescue you from their clutches unharmed. Viserys believed them that you were at their mercy and the parley actually came from the horse lords.”

“And the dragon eggs?” she asked, smiling as the black dragon reached for her, almost beckoning her. She picked him up from the trunk, picked all of three of them up, and was delighted as they perched on her.

“That was Ser Jorah. Doreah had said you felt the dragons alive and warm inside the eggs. You can imagine Viserys’ disappointment when he didn’t.”

Dany looked across the tent, remembering her visit to Castle Black: Uncle Aemon was fireproof was well, though he had never mentioned anything like surviving a fire similar to the one she did. They had never tested the theory on the children, of course, but— she stopped that train of thought. Then she remembered her dream with Rhaegar and the cryptic message her older brother had delivered: ‘ _When he taunts you, you must remember:_ _after the Doom, all dragons are Targaryens, but not all Targaryens are dragons_ ’.

“So Ser Jorah convinced your brother that bringing the eggs would show the Dothraki that you had more power and, therefore, would provide him with the advantage he needed to bring you back safely,” Marwyn went on saying, unaware of her reminiscence. “Obviously, Viserys agreed that the eggs were indeed a show of power and so he decided to bring them. In his mind, your guards would never present any real threat so the eggs would never be lost.”

“The joke is on him then,” Dany said. “He’s the one whose ashes are scattered to the seven winds.”

“If I may, Your Grace,” Marwyn said. “Over ten thousand Dothraki, the Second Sons, plus half the city of Meereen watched what happened. Everyone can see your dragons. As soon as one of Lord Varys’ little birds brings the news to the Seven Kingdoms, House Targaryen will have an advantage it has probably never enjoyed: everyone feared Aegon, the Conqueror, but that was _after_ he showed his power, after Harrenhall had melted. Now, only the thought of yours will bring you allies — you won’t have to burn a second Field of Fire to have people kneeling to you.”

“If I learnt anything from the Mad King and Tywin Lannister is that ruling by fear is no way to rule. You scare people into following you, and they will always be plotting a way to be rid of you. But my father rules with honour and justice and the whole North would rise and go into battle even for the silliest of reasons as soon as he called them. I have three dragons, Archmaester. Ruling by fear would be as effortless as breathing for me. If I want to wait for them to grow, I will arrive at the Seven Kingdoms in a few years with the same enormous beasts Aegon, the Conqueror, and his sister-wives used to subdue them. But I have no intention of being Queen of the Ashes. I won’t burn down the Red Keep or any other castle just as a warning. I will take the Seven Kingdoms because I am their rightful ruler and because I will care for the people.”

“That is wisdom that can’t be taught, my queen,” Marwyn said with a smile. “I will be most honoured to serve you.” He bowed deeply and Dany smiled as well.

Once he was gone, Dany called Missandei. “I know he means well, but unless I call, please make sure he won’t come to see me.”

The young woman nodded. “Of course, Your Grace.”

“Missandei, you are a free woman now,” Dany said once she saw the curiosity burning in the other’s face. “You may speak freely. I won’t have you punished.”

“I just… please, Your Grace, you needn’t answer if you don’t wish, but… do you really not mind that he was the one who first taught her magic?”

“I asked to not see him, didn’t I?” Dany sighed. “I know he is blameless, I do know that. And I know him, I know he would never even cogitate learning, much less teaching a spell such as this. But my heart is broken and hurting. I feel like I must have someone to blame. The maegi is gone, so what other revenge can I have from her? My brother is gone, I can no longer make him pay. I don’t want to say the wrong thing in front of a man who has done nothing but been kind to me and my family so far. A man that can teach me so much. So I think it best to avoid him for now.”

“You are very wise, Your Grace.”

“I don’t feel that,” Dany mumbled. “I just feel lost and hurting.”

Then Ser Jorah, Daario, and Drogo requested an audience to decide next steps. She sat and watched as they squabbled: Ser Jorah wanted a fool-proof way, a perfect plan; Daario was in favour of calling a champion from the city and whoever won had the control of the walls; Drogo wanted to raise his horse lords and sack Meereen.

“Enough!” Dany called when she noticed they were about to get into a fist fight. They were speaking in Dothraki, since it was the only language all of them knew. “I don’t find murder an entertaining way to spend my morning. The Great Masters of Meereen financed the expedition that destroyed my family and they would finance an invasion on the Seven Kingdoms in order to expand their slave markets. They will answer for that. Also, slavery is a crime against the people and against all of the gods. I will take that city and liberate every last slave inside. So you can either help me find a sensible plan or you can leave my tent this very moment.”

The three men went silent like scolded children.

“Slavery is the way of our people,” Drogo said after a long moment of silence. “The Great Stallion…”

“If the gods had made people to be enslaved, they wouldn’t have made us to be the same,” Dany cut in.

“Strong men take the weak and give them food, so the weak may serve the strong,” the horse lord insisted.

Dany looked at him with impatience. “Strong men and women were made to care for the weak so that, together, they might triumph. Slavery is simply a way to bully other people into doing your bidding because, for all your strength, you are too weak to earn their respect,” she said and saw in his face that it came like a fierce slap. “No more slavery. All slaves will be freed and from now on will be given coin in return for their services. If you have a problem with that, feel free to pick up your men and leave.”

A beat of silence went by. Then the black dragon jumped onto Dany’s shoulder and growled — even weakly, newborn that he was, it had the desired effect: here was the Mother of Dragons, a woman who could command fearsome beasts, make all the people in the land fear her and serve her, and she was completely against it.

“My men serve you, Khaleesi,” Drogo said, though she could clearly see he was still not fully convinced. He was bowing to the dragon, not to her words. Oh well, it would happen soon enough.

She turned to Daario. “You said the Meereneese would agree to a trial by combat? That the winner takes the city?”

“They may agree to that,” the sellsword said with a shrug. “But then they might not follow through.”

“It should buy us time at least,” Dany said. “I am assuming they are at least reasonably intelligent, so they will know that I am not sitting outside their walls with fifteen thousand men simply for the fun of it. Besides, that fire was anything but subtle.” She drummed her fingers on her thighs for a moment. “Is there any other way to get into the city?”

“There are the sewers,” Daario said. “If the City Watch is sufficiently distracted, say, by a trial by combat happening just outside the walls, where they can see from the battlements, then a small force can climb through the sewers and be in position to open the gates. Once the first men begin to pour in, the sacking—”

“No sacking,” Dany said. “Those people there, the ones who always get sacked, they are the slaves, the workers, the smallfolk. They suffer and work every day to gain a meagre living. They will _not_ be sacked. They will not be harmed. Anyone who goes against that goes against me and I shall have it be considered high treason! Any man who dares rape a woman will be gelded. Painfully and publicly.”

“I don’t disagree, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah said after another awkward silence, “but there is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him.”

“Tell me, Ser Jorah, as a man of the North, have you ever seen a direwolf?” Dany asked.

“Direwolves haven’t been seen south of the Wall in hundreds of years,” the knight answered.

“That much was true until about five years ago. Now there are eight of them south of the Wall, one for each of Ned Stark’s children at the time, for my father himself, and his brother. I have seen these direwolves grow, I heard what the lords whispered about their strength and power to kill. But they were taught to never hurt another soul, unless they were protecting someone, and they didn’t. When the sellswords took me, Ghost was as big as a small horse, he had frighteningly sharp long teeth, and with a careless wave of his paw he could throw me across a room. I saw him pull a man from atop a woman he tried to rape and to this day we don’t know who this man was, because there was nothing left of his face. But as Ghost walked through the village, the children petted him and gave him treats. He had a savage side, a beast that came forward to _protect_. The scent of blood did awake that. He was no man and, by what you just said, I begin to think he is much better than any man. At the very least, much more controlled. Not an animal.”

Being called less human than a direwolf seemed to deeply shame the three men. The Essosi had never even heard about a direwolf before, but seemed to take it as a giant wolf, and though shocked that such a thing existed, only looked away embarrassed.

“Find me a messenger who is willing to deliver a message to the Great Masters of Meereen,” Dany went on. “I have a proposal they will most likely refuse, but Daario’s plan, reckless as it is, seems sufficient for now. Unless someone else has an idea?”

“No wall is impossible to come through,” the sellsword insisted.

“You’ve never been to the North, then,” Jorah snapped, making Dany remember the creatures who really couldn’t come across the Wall.

“No spells were set up in the foundations of Meereen, Ser Jorah,” she said. “My father says that there is no obstacle that is unsurmountable to a motivated person. I am a motivated person. Now, is there a man who would fight the champion the Meereneese will choose?”

“I will fight for you, Khaleesi,” Drogo said.

“I will fight, my queen,” Daario said at the same time, turning his nose at the horse lord. Dany wanted to roll her eyes.

“Thank you, Drogo.”

“But Your Grace—” Daario tried.

“I know you are good, but I don’t know how good,” Dany said. “The Dothraki respect only strength, so if Khal Drogo has forty thousand men following him, I believe his strength speaks for itself. He will fight.” Daario was put out like a child being denied a sweet, but she had better things to worry about. “Ser Jorah will lead the mission up the sewers,” she decided, knowing it was a bit of a redeeming journey for him. By their faces, all three realised the same.

“Thank you for the opportunity, my queen,” the knight said, bowing deeply, though there was trepidation in his eyes.

“Daario can be my personal guard,” she went on, deciding to please him a bit, even if she terribly missed Orys and his unconceited protection. “In the meantime, make sure the Great Masters of Meereen are aware of the fact that I want a champion from them to fight for the city.”

The three men bowed and left her alone. She smiled softly, her attention now fully devoted to her dragons.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Gendry knocked on the door, a bit nervous. He was bid entrance and took a last deep breath before turning the doorknob.

“Might I have a word?” he asked.

Jon frowned and put his quill down, careful to close the lid of the inkpot to prevent it from spilling with the sway of the ship. “Of course. Is something the matter?”

“I, ah… in the Red Temple, I ended up listening to more than what I should have, my lord,” Gendry said, fumbling for words. Jon stiffened. “But you needn’t worry, because I won’t tell anyone.”

“I see. So what… why are you here?”

“I’m not sure you’re aware, my lord, but Lady Arya is a friend to me.”

“I remember. She arranged for your reading lessons.” Jon then narrowed his eyes. “You helped her get aboard, didn’t you?”

“Well, kind of,” Gendry revealed, blushing. “I promised to help her out of the box, my lord, but if I may be so bold, she would have snuck in some way, my helping wouldn’t have mattered. At least I knew where she was.”

“Aye, I suspect that’s right,” Jon conceded, having heard the same argument from Addam in regards to sending Arya back after she had been discovered. “So?”

“She shared how it didn’t change anything for her, but… well, I did help you recover from… _that_. I know it is not the same, but Lady Melisandre shared with me who my father is a few years ago, so I understand it’s… baffling.”

“Your father?” Jon asked, curious.

“My mother was a tavern wench and she died when I was a lad. I thought I was an orphan then. But my point is, you have reason to be proud of your three parents, my lord. I… I hope it won’t be presumptuous, but I made you something. You don’t need to use it, but… you can be proud of them, Your Grace. You _should_ be proud of them.”

Still uncomfortable with the title, Jon accepted what Gendry offered. It was a stamp, and his heart raced when he turned it to see the sigil. The direwolf of House Stark faced right and the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen faced left, entwined, together.

“I know your House has its own sigil, Your Grace, but most lords and kings have their own personal sigil in addition to that. As I said, you don’t need to…”

“No, no, I… thank you, Gendry. It’s perfect.” Jon smiled, touched. The detail of the metal… it must have taken days to make! The smith turned to leave, happy with his work, but Jon called him back. “Can’t you be proud of your father?”

Gendry scoffed. “No, Your Grace, I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Do I know him per chance?” Jon asked, finding the other’s posture odd.

“I’m afraid you do. I, ahn… I’m not proud of him. I wouldn’t wish him dead, but I don’t find any desire to meet him. Not after all I’ve heard. Especially from Arya.”

“Gendry, I won’t press you, but I am curious…”

“Robert Baratheon,” he revealed and suddenly Jon understood his hesitance. “But I want nothing from him, Your Grace. You have nothing to fear from me. I’m only a basta—”

“Being a bastard means nothing, Gendry,” Jon said, interrupting. “Or at least it should mean nothing. I won’t blame you for your father’s sins, you don’t need to worry.” He snorted. “If I did, I would have to be held accountable for the crimes my own name carries. But, and I’ve been hearing this with alarming frequency, don’t sell yourself short. Arya is an excellent judge of character, so if she’s befriended you, then it speaks a lot about you. I know of your skills as a smith and armourer. And Lord Tarly tells me that, without you, his magical book-copying machine would never exist.”

“We’re still working on it…” Gendry blushed.

“Well, something to look forward to.” Jon said. The smith smiled and turned to leave, but Jon called him back. “Gendry, as I said, being a bastard shouldn’t matter. I judge a man for his character, for his deeds. If this machine you and Lord Tarly are creating does indeed make copying books quickly a reality, then you will have changed Westeros — and the whole Known World — for the better.”

“Lord Tarly is certain it will, Your Grace.” Gendry blushed. “He’s even promised me a bit of the money.”

“Of course he did.” Jon smiled. “Do it right, Gendry, and it might be worth a lordship as well. Ah-ah-ah!” He exclaimed when Gendry tried to interject. “I can’t be argued with. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m the King.”

The smith chuckled, bowed his head, and left the room. Jon looked at the sigil, feeling suddenly a lot better. Ever since he realised the implications of his parentage, what he had most resented was that, once again, he was denied the name Stark. But Gendry’s gift brought him a comfort he couldn’t even describe: the direwolf and the dragon together brought him the idea that he didn’t have to give up who he had been all this time, who he was inside. His self, his connection to Ghost, to the North, his Stark side was still there and always would be.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ella was looking out the balcony of her solar, watching the strange red comet passing over their heads as the men bickered about the logistics.

“Enough!” She finally cut in. “No one said it would be easy or even fun. We have to do this. By kidnapping Tyrion and Jaime, Catelyn ruined our whole already tentative plan. We don’t have enough men to hold the city against the Lannisters, we barely have the numbers to keep us safe here in the Tower. We always knew the red cloaks would follow Tywin’s orders, but our hope to at least throw them off by getting Jaime to our side went up in smoke. Tommen and Myrcella being in Dragonstone might distract Cersei enough, Robert keeping her locked up in her chambers might give us an edge, but we cannot hope to beat them back. They have wildfire that can blow up the whole city the moment they want and then there will be no fighting them back. Our only choice now is to fall back and regroup.

“Lady Stark,” Ser Barristan started, “King’s Landing is a fortified city. If you leave, the cost of taking it back…”

“We don’t have a choice!” Ella insisted. “It took only an hour for the news from the Riverlands to arrive and Cersei to severely injure Lord Stark and butcher a few of our men, including the Captain of our Guard. She is going to aim for Robert next, in a way that I’m sure not even the real Kingsguard could help him, Ser Barristan, much less the pathetic fools you’re forced to command now. And if we force her out of the city, she’ll just give the order to blow it up. Not only will it kill us and the family we have here, it will kill the smallfolk, the innocent bystanders. Let the Lannisters claim King’s Landing while we take the rest of the kingdoms. At the very least we can cut off the delivery of supplies and we won’t even need to fight our way in.”

“What about Lord Stannis?” Wyman asked. “As soon as Cersei is done with the King and we are out of the city, she will aim there.”

“We’ll take the Royal fleet with us and hope the Tyrells got our raven about the fleet from Lannisport. If not, Lord Dayne will try to herd them off or at least delay them. If all of that fails, Stannis has his own fleet, let’s hope he can hold his fortress. The Targaryens did for several moons, until that huge storm. If that fails as well, then Cersei gets Tommen and Myrcella back, but that won’t change much of our plans. It is highly unlikely that Stannis would side with us until they’re in a great disadvantage and our side is the only way to live.”

“Since you’ve declared you’re sending people and the bones North,” Wyman said, “no one should question the trunks leaving the Tower.”

“Which was exactly the point,” Ella said.

“And that was very wise, my lady. But how do you propose getting you, the children, and Lord Stark aboard? And my granddaughter and the baby?”

“You will be at the harbour, coordinating the loading, Lord Manderly,” Ella smiled, “and I’m sure Lord Varys can help us find a sufficient disguise for when you need to board the boat. As to the rest of us, it will be uncomfortable, but it won’t be for long.”

It was Varys’ turn to smile. “I know I’ve said it before, Lady Stark, but I am very glad that you are here.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned was feeling confused and his mind was woozy. He felt like he was floating, then swimming at the lake in the Wolfswood, then falling untethered to anything. He heard voices, incoherent and far away. They grew distant, then closer. Fading, then sharp again. Once, he blinked and saw Ella nursing his forehead. He frowned, trying to make sense of it, only to realise he was watching it happen from Silver’s eyes. Milk of the poppy… the fuzziness must be coming from milk of the poppy. His body was immersed in its drowsing effect, but Silver’s wasn’t, so now his mind cleared as it bonded with the direwolf’s.

But still, he hadn’t learnt to make the connection last long, nor to control it too well. His mind returned to the vortex of confusion and wooziness. And warmth… too much warmth… like he was burning up inside…

Ashara’s face, when he had finally been allowed to speak to her, decades ago at Starfall, the sadness etched onto her beautiful features, her eyes drowning in it, and the words… the words that finished breaking his shattered heart: “I was pregnant. I left Harrenhall with your babe growing in my womb.” He had asked where was the child, their child, had even begun to smile, before her sadness told him the rest of the story. “She is dead. I carried her, I loved her, I birthed her, I fed her, and I watched her die. I had to let her go. She was… such a tiny little thing.” They had both dissolved in sobs then, too lost in their grief to remember that all the plans they had made in that ill-fated tourney would turn to nothing.

The dream changed. That cursed tower. He climbed step after step in the spiral staircase, but it was never-ending. The more he climbed, the more steps he had to climb. And then Lyanna’s voice began echoing, ricocheting off the stones: “you have to promise me, Ned! You have to protect him! Promise me, Ned!”

“I promise!” he yelled back, and still he couldn’t get to the top of the stairs. He only knew he had to get to the top, he had to get to her. He couldn’t let his baby sister alone. “I promise! I promise, Lya!”

But her words kept on echoing, the last words she had ever said: “Promise me, Ned. You have to protect him! Robert will kill him! Promise me, Ned!”

He began crying, sobbing out ‘I promises’s, his breath beginning to fail as he climbed step after step after step. Finally, a baby’s cry joined the echoing words and Ned’s heart failed a beat.

“Jon! Jon, I’m coming!” He began to climb faster, imagining his son all alone at the top, alone and lost and needing him.

“Papa!” a boy’s voice called back. “Papa, you promised, Papa!”

“I’m coming, son!”

“Papa, don’t let him hurt me!”

“Jon, hold on, I’m coming!”

“You lied to me!” Robert’s voice boomed and bounced off the walls now and Ned nearly tripped as he kept on climbing and climbing and climbing. “I trusted you and you lied to me!”

“No, Robert wait!”

“Papa, help me!”

Finally, he was at the top of the stairs. He burst through the door, as he had in the real tower, and he saw his greatest fear playing out in front of him. Robert stood, menacing and his face twisted into a cruel mask as he held a dagger to the boy’s throat. Jon — because it was Jon, even if he was only about five years old — was crying.

“Robert, don’t do this!”

“You lied to me, Ned! I trusted you!”

“He is my son! Please, Robert, don’t hurt my son!”

“He is not your son! He is an abomination! I told you, Ned, all dragonspawn must die! I’ll kill this one, then I will kill the other monster you raised!”

“No! No, Jon, no!”

Ned threw himself forward, but the scene changed. Gone were Robert, his cursed dagger, and the boy Jon. It was the adult Jon who stood before him now, looking hurt and furious.

“You lied to me,” Jon said. “I called you Father all these years, and all this time, you were a fraud!”

“No, son, please… let me explain… you are my son, Jon!”

“I am not, Lord Eddard. I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen! You lied to me! You stole my father from me, my birthright, and turned me into nothing!”

“No, son, I was only trying to protect you!”

“You were a coward! You let your friend take the throne! You let him usurp my rights and you raised me as a bastard, as nothing, being humiliated because you were weak!”

Ned was crying now. “Son, please…”

But then, in an explosion of sweet winter rose petals, the dream was over, dissolved into nothingness, the blessed darkness of the unconscious.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The lone figure stood on the ship’s bow, watching the fleet stretched ahead. A few of the enemy’s ships were a bit battered, because they could see at least three of them without a mast or two.

“They’ll notice us soon enough,” the captain said, disturbing the silence.

“There would be no point in hiding forever. Even though I know you don’t agree.”

The non-agreeing party in question only snorted. “I merely think that we could use a little more caution. Half the Lannister fleet is here.”

“So we’ve been told. But look at them!”

“Scouts just came back,” the captain interrupted again. “It seems some Northern ships wanted to pass south and the Lannisters didn’t want to let them. Seems the Northerners fell back, but not without leaving the lions licking their wounds.”

“Made our work a bit easier. And the Lannisters already took out the Baratheon ships?”

“Seems as much.” The captain shrugged. “They at least took out the rookery, because if the castle had sent a bird, then the Royal ships would be here already. It’s a blink from here to the capital.”

“I thought the Royal fleet had joined Lord Starling as he went in search of Daenerys.”

“All the reports we heard from the ports we stopped in on the way said there were only ten Royal ships on Starling’s fleet. They must have more.”

“What I do know,” the captain said, “is that Stannis Baratheon was Master of Ships once and he and the Velaryons had a few nice ships defending this side of the Crownlands. If the Lannisters are still here it’s because Stannis is either letting them, or they already took out the Usurper’s brother.”

“Well, that would make our job even easier!”

“Griff—”

“My name is Aegon,” the silver haired young man snapped. “Griff was a safety blanket I no longer need.”

The captain looked away, pretending he wasn’t listening. Jon Connington let out a deep sigh. “I’m just trying to protect you, s— Your Grace.”

“I know,” Aegon conceded, softening. “But we discussed this, Father. You saw my aunt in Volantis, how she was inspiring the Dothraki to fight for her. She went to Meereen to get revenge on her brother, according to your spies, but when she turns west, what if she brings the savages with her? She’ll have at least the North and 40,000 cavalry to do her bidding. And Starling was travelling with the Redwynes, what means the Reach will probably side with her. All we have right now is the 10,000 men and the elephants of the Golden Company. We _need_ Dragonstone! Dragonstone and the Usurper’s children so we will have hostages to ensure the Lannister surrender. With luck, we will have the capital in hand by the time my aunt comes back from Essos. Then we can negotiate a marriage alliance.”

“Jon Starling is alive,” Jon Connington reminded him. “How will you negotiate a marriage pact with a married woman?”

Aegon rolled his eyes. “The Faith allows for annulments when the bride was forced into the marriage against her will. My aunt was betrothed to Jon Starling as a baby and forced to marry him on Robert Baratheon’s orders. We can annul their union as such, Septa Lemore told me.”

“And did she tell you that the Faith has not yet annulled any marriages that have born fruit? Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Starling have three children. There will be no annulling their marriage. Besides, they were raised in Winterfell by Ned Stark, they most likely didn’t marry within the Faith of the Seven. The North follows the old gods.”

“One more reason why the High Septon will have no objections,” Aegon waved the concern away. “Now, Father, please, let us focus on our immediate goal.”

Jon Connington pursed his lips in displeasure. “I still think we should have started by the Stormlands. I know how to get us into Griffin’s Roost—”

“You’re the Lord of Griffin’s Roost, you should be able to simply walk through the front door.” Aegon rolled his eyes in a manner that indicated how he was merely humouring his father for politeness’ sake.

“Not while the Usurper draws breath, I can’t,” Jon muttered, visibly angry.

“Well, not for much longer then.” Aegon shrugged. “Restoring your title and lands will be a priority for me, Father, I hope you know that. you deserve that and much more for everything you have and are still doing for me.”

“Aegon, please, listen to me. We can discuss rewards later. Dragonstone was built to be impregnable!”

“And yet Stannis Baratheon took it from my grandmother!”

“Because there were a handful of half-starved men defending it! It won’t be the case now! Stannis will have thousands of men defending the fortress, even if he’s lost his navy already. And there is the not small detail that to even get to Dragonstone, we will need to get through the Lannisters!”

“What are the Lannisters even doing here? Attacking the Usurper’s brother?” Aegon asked, frowning.

“Well, with any luck, the lions decided to betray their own king. If they have, then they are here to retrieve their ‘prince’ and ‘princess’ so they can be sat on the throne and consolidate Lannister power over the realm. Tywin has wanted that for decades, ever since the days of your grandfather.”

“I know, Tywin Lannister was furious when my grandfather refused Cersei’s hand to my father. But that is good news, isn’t it? If the Usurper’s own household is falling apart, then they’ll be much easier to defeat.”

“If the Lannisters are making a move, then that means it will be a power grab now, Aegon. Listen to me, if the Lannisters prepared to take Dragonstone, we might not have the men to stop them. Let’s take the Stormlands and then we’ll have enough support! If we take Griffin’s Roost and a few of the other castles, we have a way to Storm’s End. It’s Renly Baratheon’s now, but he is in the Small Council, so he is in King’s Landing. If we…”

“Even if it would be ironic that I start my conquest by taking the Usurper’s home like he took mine, I want Dragonstone,” Aegon insisted. “I am a Targaryen and I will have the Targaryen fortress. We have fifty ships and twenty elephants. I _will_ take Dragonstone.”

Jon Connington didn’t insist again.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Hope you loved this one as Aegon's introduction. Just to make something clear, here Varys is not on Aegon's team, he is on Jon and Dany's side. This is because when I begun to write this, I made Varys aware of and helping Jon and Dany, because I have only seen the show. Later, reading up on the Aegon plotline, I decided to add him, but it was too late to have Varys change sides. So the only one in Aegon's side in this is Illyrio.
> 
> Also, Just above you'll see my idea of Jon's personal sigil, the one Gendry makes for him.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany fights for Meeren while in King's Landing things are going from bad to worse.

Dany sat proudly astride her horse, watching as the Meereneese marched out of the city. There were about two dozen soldiers escorting two well-dressed men, whom she supposed were slave masters, carried in litters by slaves. She clenched her jaw at the sight. Then a bulky man, tall and muscly, came out, cheered by the citizens.

“That’s Oznak zo Pahl,” Daario informed. “He’s one of the nobles from the city, from an ancient slaving family. He a good fighter, he’s got a reputation, but still, I thought they’d send one of the champions in the fighting pits—”

“Those won’t have champions for long. Not if I have anything to say about it.” Dany cut in immediately.

“They are the biggest part of the Meereneese culture,” the sellsword said. “Well, other than slavery, obviously. Though I suppose one came from the other. Anyway, I wish you luck if you make the very unpopular decision of having the pits closed down.”

“How many of these atrocities are there in this city?” Dany wondered, but Daario shrugged.

“There are a few — some smaller, poorer; some bigger, for people with deeper pockets. The biggest one is the Great Pit of Daznak. They have slave fighters face each other for the amusement of the crowd. Much like your western jousts.”

“Except jousts are fought by free men who choose to be there. It’s a display of skill, not of violence. How does the fight end?”

“Death, obviously.” Daario shrugged. “And some people’s pockets filled with gold.”

Dany felt her blood race with fury again. “People bet on these fights? Fights to the death?”

“It’s how the city works.”

Dany was about to explode and go into a very longwinded raging lecture about the wrongness of the situation when one of the Great Masters approached.

“So you are the princess we invested in rescuing,” the man said, clearly displeased. “And this is how you repay our investment.”

“I am the _queen_ whom you have kidnapped and whose family you have murdered,” Dany returned in a cold and sharp tone. “You have not yet seen how I shall have justice.”

“You murdered your own brother!” The other slaver exclaimed. “And you expect us to trust your word?”

“Prince Viserys committed crimes and he was punished for them,” Dany stated, unflinching. “You were his investors, you will answer for those crimes as well. But I am merciful. Surrender the city,” she spoke loud and clearly enough to be heard by the men in the battlements, “and free your slaves and we shall take the city peacefully, your families will be spared. Betray your word and I will not be merciful.”

Balerion, the black dragon who was also the biggest of the three, cawed from his perch on her shoulder, immediately followed by his brothers. The two slavers visibly shuddered and swallowed dry.

“You hatched them,” the first slaver said in a weak voice.

“I did.” Dany smiled. “So, will you accept my terms or shall we battle?”

“We will accept the terms for a trial by combat,” the second slaver said. “Your champion against ours, and the winner has the city.”

“Very well. Let’s have it, then,” Dany agreed.

“We will watch from the battlements…” the first slavers started.

“You will watch it from here,” Dany said and her guards stood straighter. “If I lose, you will stand and see me and mine depart. If I win, then you will have the gates opened.”

Her veiled threat was not at all veiled and it was clear they understood it. She trotted the short distance to where Drogo stood his _kos_ , dismounting. Irri’s riding lessons had paid off, because the horse lords praised her skill and said she rode like a Dothrakaan.

“Do your people wish luck in battles?” she asked Drogo in his tongue.

“We do not believe in luck, Khaleesi,” he answered. “We believe in strength.”

“Very well. I’ll say what my people say, then: I wish you good fortune in the fight to come.”

He merely bowed his head and took his arakh, going to the fighting area. Dany went back onto her silver, her dragons perched on her. The poor horse had been unsettled when she first approached with her new sons, but Dany, with the help of a few of the Dothraki, managed to calm her down and make her see the dragons would not hurt her.

“I think those two back there started rooting for their champion with renewed enthusiasm,” Daario said, stopping next to her.

“Men who treat people as possessions do not — cannot have any shred of honour,” Dany said. “I don’t trust them to uphold their word.”

“They likely sent the least prestigious, poorest slavers, from a new family. I doubt they’re from old noble families.”

“It matters not whether their silver spoon is inherited or newly bought, every man values his own life. If they won’t open the gates, they will be the examples. Hopefully the group infiltrating the city will have the gates opened anyway.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in a man who is a disgraced criminal in your land,” Daario said with a smirk.

“I’m putting a lot of faith in a man longing for his home. I can certainly sympathise. And you would do well to cease any commentary, since you were involved in taking me from my home and my family.”

The sellsword wisely kept his mouth shut, wondering for the hundredth time if he should tell her that her family was alive. Well, her children certainly, though there was no telling whether or not Mero had killed her husband. But if the Queen believed her former handmaiden and the Archmaester, then he could claim his own ignorance as well. He certainly didn’t fancy facing her reaction to learning all her mourning had been for naught.

“I have to admit,” Daario said after the battle had started. “The savage does know how to fight.”

Dany smirked. “If their loyalty comes from strength, having 40,000 men certainly puts the odds in his favour. How many men do you have, again?” she needled.

“I have 1,700 men, Your Grace, but I didn’t spend years growing a braid. Life is too beautiful to go searching for loyalty. Gold comes more easily.”

Dany snorted and focused on the fight. She had a city to take and people to free.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Sansa went quietly into the room, stopping at the door with a sad smile. Maester Byren had just left, saying the wound was healing nicely — much better than anyone would ever have expected, what was leading them all to think the bond with Silver was somehow affecting the healing process. The direwolf had yet to leave the lord’s chambers and in the rare occasions he left the bed where he was lying next to Ned, he was limping as if he was feeling the wound his human companion suffered. Sansa had thought to wait until morning, but Cregan was insisting he wanted to see their father, so she decided to check on whether or not it would be possible.

“Ella,” she whispered softly, shaking her stepmother delicately. The woman was startled, raising her head and looking over at her husband as she blinked the sleep away. “You need to have a proper night of sleep, Ella,” Sansa insisted.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Besides, Maester Byren should be coming—”

“He just left,” the redhead revealed.

“But I… I didn’t hear… why didn’t he wake me?”

“Because you were so tired you didn’t even stir as he changed Father’s bandage. You need to sleep, Ella. I’ve had your bedchamber prepared, go and get some rest, I’ll sit with Father tonight.”

“No, I… I’m fine. I need to keep checking his fever.”

“You’ve been doing that for the past three days and nights, Ella,” Sansa insisted again. “The only times you are not with Father are when you go check on the children or the one time you went to organise the voyage North. You are going to be ill yourself soon if you don’t rest. Go, take a bath, and sleep tonight. I’ll stay with Father and you can come back after breakfast.”

There was a quiet knock at the door before Wynafryd let herself in. “Lady Stark, your bath is ready.”

“I just…” Ella hesitated.

“You can’t help Lord Stark if you fall ill, my lady. Come, Taena already poured all your favourite scents into the water, it would be rude to let her work go to waste.”

“Sansa, if anything…” Ella gave in with a sigh, knowing they wouldn’t give up and they were right.

“If he as much as twitches, I promise to come and wake you,” Sansa said with a smile. “Good night, Ella.”

The woman smiled and let Wynafryd lead her out of the room.

“How are you doing?” she asked as they walked.

“Worried about Willas,” the younger lady said. “But at least we know that Lady Starling is free now. And I have had a letter from Lady Olenna just now, I was coming to tell you when Sansa asked my help to make sure you rested.” Wynafryd smiled. “She said Lord Redwyne is sending another twenty ships to join their fleet. If they return as soon as they arrive in Meereen, these extra ships will probably meet them on the voyage west, but at least it’s extra protection in these turbulent times.”

“Good,” Ella said, a bit relieved. “I will send a raven thanking Lady Olenna and Lord Redwyne.” Then she sighed. “It’s an ungrateful task, this one we’re given. To stay safely back while our men go out to war. But we muster it with a grace they would never be able to muster. We keep the family safe, the castles fed and protected, the supplies delivered to them.”

“That thought helps,” Wynafryd said. “But it doesn’t help all of it.”

“I know.” Ella chuckled. “But can you imagine the men sitting back with the children while we got things done? We would get back to an unruly castle, an undisciplined nursery, and they would be a mess. Let them go to the battlefield and hack swords at each other while we do the tough work back home.”

“We would try to solve things _before_ we felt the need to hack swords at each other,” Wynafryd said with an amused smile.

“Oh, certainly,” Ella agreed. “But with some foes we can’t solve our problems at the table, unfortunately.” They arrived in her chambers.

“I will bring the children over after your bath,” Wynafryd said. “So you can say a proper goodnight. Bertha and I are sleeping in the nursery, so you can really get a full night of sleep.”

“Thank you,” Ella said, deeply grateful.

She went inside her chambers and finally got some sleep, even if the bed felt alien to her — she hadn’t slept there ever since she and Ned had gotten married. In the next morning, she felt very rested as she went back to the lord’s chambers, relieved that Ned’s fever hadn’t returned. It was mid-morning and she was sitting at the end of the bed embroidering when he stirred. She froze, her needle suspended.

“Ash…” Ned croaked, blinking awake.

She gasped in relief. “Thank the gods! How are you feeling?”

Ned blinked a bit more, trying to make sense of the room around him. After a moment he recognised their bedchamber in the Tower of the Hand and was immediately reminded of what had happened in town. “You… and Sansa?”

“We are fine, love. Sansa has gone to sleep now, she spent the night watching over you. Are you in pain?”

“Fine,” he said, though she knew he was minimising it — she could see the pain in his eyes. “How long was I asleep?”

“Four days.”

“Four… you have to go… leave the city. The ships must be here.”

“They aren’t,” Ella said calmly, forcing him to remain lying down and rolling her eyes as he hissed in pain as he moved his leg. “You need to lay back, love. We have everything in hand. Whatever happened to the Northern ships that were coming, they haven’t arrived yet. But Lord Manderly is preparing the fleet, we are slipping away very soon.”

“Get a company ready, you and the children can leave the city—”

“And be met with the Lannister army outside the walls?” Ella pondered. “Relax, Ned, we have everything—”

“Oh thank the heavens!” Robert exclaimed, bursting through the door unannounced. Ned frowned and Ella’s face immediately soured. “Quite the scare, heh!”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but I cannot manage to rise at the—”

“Oh piss on that!” Robert said, coming closer to the bed.

Ella stood up and mouthed ‘men from the Moat’, and Ned nodded imperceptibly. The King came and sat on the chair to the other side of the bed, pausing at the table to pour himself a goblet of wine.

“So, how are you feeling?” Robert asked.

“Better,” was all Ned offered. The other seemed to understand nothing else would be said.

“Who attacked you?”

“No one who can do it again. I saw through Silver’s eyes as the man died.”

“Now that is something!” Robert laughed. Then he sobered. “Blasted woman. She is locked up. I’ll deal with her.”

“Deal with her how?” Ned asked, though he had no hope Robert would do anything drastic. The King chanced a look at Ella, who rolled her eyes and bit back a scoff, but didn’t move. “Love, please?” Ned asked softly.

“Fine,” she conceded reluctantly. “But for the record, it was the Mountain who came after me and Sansa,” she said and Ned froze in deep fear. “Silver protected us, but Ser Gregor escaped the capital. He is going northwest to Riverrun, up the Kingsroad, not the Goldroad.”

“You can’t know that!” Robert exclaimed.

“Lord Varys may have his little birds, but I have my own spies, Your Grace,” Ned said.

“You!” Robert snorted. “You’re too shitty a liar to have spies!”

“The Warden of the North and Hand of the King needs spies just as much as the King,” Ella said. Robert clenched his jaw and it was clear he was stopping himself from saying something very rude. “I shall see to the nursery,” Ella finally said and left the room with hard steps.

“That’s a bloody stubborn woman you’ve found yourself, Ned,” Robert muttered, refilling his goblet. “How do you put up with her?”

Ned snorted, but decided against answering. “What are you going to do with Cersei?”

“What in the seven hells is Catelyn doing?” Robert asked in return.

“I have absolutely no idea. What are you going to do with Cersei?”

“What can I bloody do with Cersei?!” Robert exclaimed. “I owe her father half a kingdom, as her uncle has been reminding me every day since I’ve locked her up in her chambers!”

“By now a quarter of a kingdom, at worst, and we could cover the debt with an advance payment from the other Great Houses, I believe. Besides, every day you let Cersei go unpunished is one day you show to the Kingdoms that the Lannisters are more powerful than you.”

“I’m the bloody King! Tywin owes me fealty!”

“But if Cersei can attack your Hand in the middle of the streets, in front of everybody, in broad daylight, and still walk away, then it’s because the Lannisters rule you, not the other way around!”

“Others take you! We haven’t spoken in weeks and now you want to annoy me to the hells!” He finished his goblet and refilled it. “You need to send a raven. Tell Catelyn to return those two golden shits to King’s Landing.”

“I’ve already sent my men from Moat Cailin to do it. With your leave, I’ll go and escort Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion back myself.”

“No, I don’t give you a bloody leave! You are staying right here, I don’t want you gone! ‘Sides, doubt the Maester would let you, with that leg.”

“My leg will be just fine, Robert, I must speak to Catelyn…”

“And you will, when your men have brought her and the two lions back. I have half a mind to have Lord Tully summoned. And besides, I need you here in King’s Landing!” Robert exclaimed and when Ned tried to object, he slapped the goblet forcefully on the table. “I said I need you here! You’re the only one I trust, Ned. So you get to rule the Kingdoms while I hunt.”

“Hunt?”

“I have the urge to kill things.” Robert shrugged. The ‘so I won’t kill Cersei’ was implicit. “So you get to sit on the throne.” He snorted sarcastically. “I bet you’ll hate it more than I do.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Edric Storm cursed, turning back around and helping the girl to her feet. “Are you alright?”

“Just tripped again,” she answered, clutching her book against her chest.

“Why are we sneaking away?” the other girl asked.

“We will explain everything later. Now we must go,” Edric answered, urging them to move again. They trekked through the stony terrain for another mile or so until they finally reached a beach. “Are we sure we can make it?” he asked the two young men already preparing the boat for departure.

“Between the four of us, we have four pair of rowing arms,” Devan replied. “We can make it to the continent at the Pynes’ lands. But there is no way to go anywhere further on the water.”

“The Pynes’ are not far enough from their reach,” Edric mumbled, displeased. His blue eyes were as stormy as the bastard’s name he bore. “And it is the opposite side of where we should be going.”

“Why are we not going to King’s Landing?” Myrcella asked.

_Because the first line of enemies were Lannister ships and if they are attacking it’s because they already killed our father_ , Edric thought darkly. “We can’t go to King’s Landing, Princess, there are enemy ships on the way. Besides, they will be looking for escapees rowing there. We can reach safety another way.

He cursed mentally for what seemed like the thousandth time. In what was up to him, he would be with his uncle fighting to protect Dragonstone, but Stannis had given him another task, that of bringing his cousin and half-siblings to Storm’s End with the help of Ser Davos’ three sons, whom Stannis considered his most loyal men.

“If the Lannisters are attacking,” Stannis said before he left to join the front line of defence, “it is because my brother is no longer sitting on the throne. They are attacking because we have Tommen and Myrcella. Those children are the only leverage we have against the lions, so take them to Storm’s End and keep them safe. Take Shireen too, or she’ll suffer as Rhaegar’s children suffered if they get past me.”

Edric had tried arguing that a boat crossing the enemy line and then four men escorting three children across the cities and roads to the Stormlands was not what he would call safe, but Stannis had been unmoveable.

“We can’t make it to Sharp Point,” Maric said, “we’d run smack into them.”

“They’re right,” Dale insisted, bringing the bag of supplies over, “we can go to the Pynes’ and hope they keep their war focused on the other side of the island. Even getting as far as Dukensdale would be too dangerous.”

“It will be a long way to Storm’s End,” Edric said, but accepted this was the only way.

“But if we’re going to the Pynes’ we will have to go through King’s Landing to get to Storm’s End,” Shireen said. “Wouldn’t it be safer…”

“Red Keep’s been taken before, milady,” Dale said. “Storm’s End hasn’t. Your lord father said to take you to Storm’s End until we know more about this enemy, so that’s what we’ll do. Come, why don’t you help Maric sort out the supplies?”

The three youngsters were clearly displeased with the idea, but went anyway. Dale, Devan, and Edric huddled to speak quietly.

“She _is_ right,” the eldest said, “we’d have to go by the capital which by now will be infested with Lannisters. We might not be able to slip by. Especially if the Prince and Princess see the bloody lion sigil and insist on going there.”

“What do you suggest, then, Dale?” Edric asked. “You said so yourself, we can’t make it to Sharp Point, the fighting is in the way. Our only escape is to the Pynes’ and that still puts the Lannisters between us and Storm’s End.”

“Look, Edric, we know what the Lannisters attacking Dragonstone means. And I’m sorry, we know he was your father…”

“He sent me expensive gifts, that’s all,” Edric snorted.

“Regardless, he was your father. We either go to the Pynes’ and take the rest of the way on land or we can try going around the Blackwater Bay. If we get as far as the Stokeworths and cross there, we will still be well wide of the capital. From the Wendwaters, we can keep going until we circumvent Sharp Point, but from there we _will_ need a proper ship. This boat can handle the bay, but it will not fare well when we hit the Narrow Sea, even close to shore, where we shouldn’t be going anyway. Also, it will become timber if we try to get to Shipbreaker Bay. The place got that name for a reason.”

“Can we get a ship in Sharp Point?”

“We can try,” Devan said, “I know a guard in the port there. But I think it wise you and the children stay in the boat.”

“Why? I’m not hiding like a criminal!” Edric was outraged.

“Your Baratheon face is very obvious, Edric,” Dale pointed out. “Plus, Tommen and Myrcella can’t hide their Lannister faces either, and Shireen’s greyscale scars are also a dead give-away. What do you think will happen when someone recognises any of you?” Edric huffed but didn’t reply. “If Lord Stannis wins, he knows where we’re going. If he doesn’t, it won’t take much time for the Lannisters to search the castle and then put bounties on your heads. At worst they stop us, at best they can tell where we were. If we are fleeing, we can’t be traced.”

“Fine. I’ll stay in the boat minding my cousin and half-siblings, are you happy?”

“Well, then, it seems we have a plan,” Devan said.

They heard a loud ‘boom’ from across the island, where the fighting was happening. “We already lost half the fleet yesterday,” Edric said quietly. “At this rate we won’t make it to the end of the day.”

“No time to waste then,” Dale said. “There are two different enemies out there, Edric,” he lowered his voice. “One of them we don’t even know who it is. But our hope of beating back the Lannisters was gone when they blew up half our fleet. We were unprepared for an attack and they overwhelmed us. Let’s focus on our duty now. Lord Stannis said to take the three of them to Storm’s End, so we are taking the three of them to Storm’s End. Alright?”

Edric took a deep breath. “Right. Let’s move.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Robb whirled the quill around his fingers one more time, his anxiety evident. Margaery put the raven scroll back on his desk and took a deep breath.

“You’ll end up snapping that quill broken, love,” she said softly.

“Why would the bloody queen attack my father in the streets of the capital?” Robb asked, putting it down and clenching and unclenching his hand.

“You read why, Robb. Your mother…”

“What is she bloody doing? What was she thinking?!”

“We don’t know that, Robb,” Margaery stood and crossed to the other side of the desk, pushing his chair back to sit on his lap. He stopped twitching his leg with the addition of her weight and sighed as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “And right now the reason is irrelevant. She did it and there is no undoing it. We need to account for every possibility.”

He exhaled heavily. “I can’t call the banners for this. Not until we know the King’s reaction.”

“Well, from what little I saw, King Robert puts your father’s life above his own children, so he would certainly put it above Cersei. There is nothing we can do about it now. So let us focus on the good piece of news, shall we?”

“Dany got free, she is pregnant, and Jon knows where she is,” Robb enumerated. “Finally! They will finally start the way west!”

“And my uncle is sending more ships to escort them.” Margaery smiled. “I’ve been speaking with Maester Luwin, you know. Since I’m certain Jon and Dany will be very happy to be home with their children, I asked him how soon Little Jon could travel. He said while unorthodox, if we take good care of him, he should do well on the road to his uncle and aunt’s castle.”

Robb smiled softly. “How do you think about everything?”

“Us women are good with details,” she answered with a matching smile. “And speaking about the nursery, there are two little guys up there expecting their goodnight kiss.”

Robb chuckled as they stood, leaving the troubling message behind. Even so, neither of them could shake the feeling that war was coming.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned was sitting on the armchair he had had pushed to the balcony, enjoying the fresh air outside. He had managed to limp there with the use of a cane, even against Ella’s overprotective reluctance, but he would have to sit on the Iron Throne and hold Court tomorrow and he absolutely refused to be carried there. Ella had only scoffed at that.

He had been staring at the folded parchment for what had to be an hour now. It was addressed to him in Jon’s handwriting, but it was simply too small a piece of paper. Not that he expected that this matter would be resolved over letters, but he had expected something a bit longer with the turmoil his son must be going through. Finally, he exhaled and unfolded it.

 

_I doubt it will surprise you that I am hurt. I am hurt and I feel betrayed by the person I trusted most in the world. We will speak in person. Though I wish you would consider leaving the capital for the safety of Winterfell. I still do not know what I will do with this truth, but I can recognise that the only reason you stayed there is because you are trying to protect me, Dany, and our children, to which I can only be thankful. So, please, leave. I would never forgive myself._

_Jon_

 

Ned folded the parchment, tears running down his face. He had known Jon would be hurt, of course he would. And confusion was also to be expected. The lack of greeting stung the most — in all his previous letters, Jon had started with ‘my dear father’. The lack of signature was also concerning, because it just showed how truly confused he was. And here Ned was, stuck in this infernal city, when his son needed him. When he himself needed to speak to his son.

“Papa?” called a little voice from the bedchamber.

“Come here, my boy,” he called wiping his face quickly as Cregan ran over.

“Why you upset, Papa?”

“I’m worried, that’s all. Now tell me, how was your day?”

“Rickon took me riding, Papa!” the boy was excited. “Can I have a pony, Papa? Lya has one, she got one when she was three. I’m three now, Papa!”

“I will speak with your mother and see if you deserve a pony. You have been behaving, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have, Papa! I ate all my greens, and I hate peas. They are round and green and weird. Rickon says he doesn’t like peas neither, Papa, but we have to eat them because they are good to make us strong.”

“And Rickon is right,” Ned said with a fond smile. “Only boys who eat their peas and their greens grow strong enough to learn swordplay.”

“I know, Mama said that. She said Uncle Addam ate all his peas when he was little like me, that’s why he is so good. So because you are so good too, Papa, you eat your peas too, don’t you?”

“Of course I do! And so does Silver!” Ned said and the direwolf raised his head from where it laid on his paws with a clearly displeased face. Cregan laughed, delighted.

“Papa, when do I get my own direwolf?”

“When you’re old enough to take care of one,” Ned said seriously. “A direwolf is a companion, not a pet, son. He must choose you and he will come when he senses you are ready to receive him. And not before.”

The boy nodded solemnly. “I know, Papa. But when I am ready, can he live here with me? I just don’t want him all the way in the North like Sansa’s and Rickon’s.”

Ned grimaced. By that time, he hoped none of them were still in this bloody city!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

‘I am back in Grandpa’s castle!’ Little Lya thought, recognising the place around her. It wasn’t the first time she had this dream, and the nice lady was always there, waiting for her, ready for a ride around Grandpa’s lands. The nice lady was always silent, though she was beautiful and kind and always smiled. Lya thought she looked a lot like Auntie Arya. And there she was again, saddling her beautiful mare.

“Hello, Lya,” the nice lady greeted with a smile and the girl gasped.

“You can speak now!”

“I can. I’m sorry I never spoke before. But you see, I couldn’t speak to you until I spoke with your Papa.”

“Why?” Lya asked, coming closer to the mare. “What’s your name?”

“My name is a secret, Lya,” the nice lady said. “I can tell you now, because I told your Papa. But you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone. Well, except for Auntie Ayla and Uncle Benjen, because they already know.”

“I promise! Grandpa says a promise is forever, so I will keep it forever!”

“I’m your grandmother, Lya. And my name is Lyanna.”

The girl frowned. “But I am Lyanna!”

The woman smiled fondly. “What did Uncle Robb name his son? Little Ned, right? And what is Grandpa’s name?”

“Oh!” Lya exclaimed. “We have the same name! That is nice! And… oh! You’re Papa’s Mama, aren’t you? Grandpa tolded Papa and Papa tolded me that you passed away when Papa was little.”

“I did, my sweet love. But I have always been right here,” Lyanna patted Lya’s heart. “And I always will be.”

Lya smiled and threw her arms around the woman in a tight hug.

“Can we go riding now? And does your horsey have a name? I love horseys! I have a pony and her name is Snow!”

Lyanna smiled fondly. “This is Winter,” she introduced them. “But I’m afraid we won’t have time today, my sweet. You see, you need to wake up soon and I need to tell you something before you wake up.”

“Tell me? Tell me what?” Lya asked, distracted with the beautiful horsey.

“Lya, sweet, look at me,” Lyanna asked and pulled the girl to face her, kneeling to match her height. “Magic is growing stronger in the world now. You must keep Blue with you at all times.”

“But she is always with me!” Lya was confused.

“I know, my love, I know. But now you must be doubly as careful. People might want to take Blue from you.”

“But Blue is mine! Mama gave her to me! And Papa and Mama say it’s bad to take other people’s things!”

“It is, love, it is very bad. But some people are bad and ugly and they do wrong things. So you must take care of Blue, alright? And you must ask your brothers to do the same.”

“I will, Grandma, I promise. Does that mean Blue is alive, Grandma?”

Lyanna smiled. “She is, love. Blue is very much alive.”

“So she will crack, won’t she?” Lya asked, suddenly fearful.

“If you believe hard enough, love, yes, she will,” Lyanna was quick to reassure. “She came from the volcano, remember?”

Lya nodded and slowly the dream faded away. She woke up in her bed, hugging Blue close as she always did, with Auntie Ayla opening the curtains and choosing her a new dress.

“Did you have a nice dream, Lya?” the woman asked. “You were smiling.”

“I did, Auntie. I dreamt I was in Grandpa’s castle. And Grandma was there!”

Ayla chuckled. “Grandma is in King’s Landing, remember?”

“No, Auntie, not Grandma Ella. She said it was alright to tell you, because you already know and she can tell me now that Papa knows.”

Ayla frowned. “Lya, what are you talking about?”

“Grandma Lyanna. Is that why my name is Lyanna, because it’s Grandma’s name too?”

The woman was so shocked that the dress slipped through her fingers. “I… I will send Mary to come and help you, Lya,” she said. “Don’t… don’t go back to sleep!”

With that, she raced out of Lyanna’s chambers and down the corridor to her and Benjen’s. He was frowning, staring intensely at a raven scroll.

“I was just about to send for you,” Benjen said. “This just arrived from King’s Landing. You won’t believe what it—”

“Does it have anything to do with Lya just now asking me if her name is Lyanna because ‘it’s Grandma’s name too’?”

Benjen blanched, his chin falling open. “She had another dream?”

“She said Lyanna told her she could tell her now that Jon knows. Or whatever convoluted way I’m probably messing up.”

“Well, we already knew he does,” Benjen said. “But Ella sent another raven.”

“I still think this is a mess!” Ayla exclaimed, but refrained from further commentary.

“The mess is about to come,” Benjen said dreadfully. “Catelyn kidnapped Tyrion and Jaime, so Cersei attacked Ella, Sansa, and Ned in the middle of the streets. Jory is dead and Ned is injured.”

“This is not ‘a mess’, Benjen. This is war.”

“I know,” he said.

She exhaled shakily. “You’re not going to stay, are you?”

“I’m sorry,” he answered in a whisper. “But when Ned calls the banners… or Jon, if he decides to.” Ayla nodded, her heart shrinking, and she went to the balcony, trying to blink her tears away. “I really am sorry.”

“Oddly enough, I don’t blame you,” she said softly. “Just… I didn’t mourn Dirk, I actually thought ‘good riddance’, as terrible as it is. Don’t make my first visit to our own castle be to bury your bones.”

“I can’t promise you that,” Benjen said. “But I can promise you I’ve never had so many reasons to fight back to come home.”

“You’d better.”

They hugged, trying to find what comfort they could find when war loomed ever closer.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned limped back to the Tower of the Hand as fast as his injured leg allowed for, even if the pain grew more distant every day that passed. Silver was anxiously running up and down the corridor, checking every corner before they got there, and the guards rushed after him with their hands on their pommels.

“Get the children ready to go!” he said, bursting through the door to his chambers, startling Ella and his eldest daughter. “Sansa, go get your things, get your siblings ready to go, now!”

“Ned, what happened?”

“Robert is dying. Sansa, go, now!” The girl rushed out of the room quickly, very alarmed. “Cersei will seize the throne the moment Robert dies, sitting as Tommen’s regent. We still don’t know how to get rid of the wildfire, so that will always be a sword hanging over our heads.”

“I’ll get the children aboard,” Ella promised, her heart beginning to race. “But Ned, don’t even think…”

“I’ll stay as a distraction…”

“You will not!” Ella exclaimed. “We have a solid escape plan…”

“To hide inside trunks!” Ned snorted.

“Did you come up with a better idea?” she snapped back.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m sorry. I know you’re only thinking about our safety. But I will not hide like a criminal.”

“We are not hiding, Ned,” Ella insisted for the hundredth time. “The Lannisters are playing a dirty game. After five years in this place, it cannot be possible that you still think you can expect people to act honourably!” He huffed, but had to concede the point. “We are regrouping, falling back strategically so we can fight back. Staying in King’s Landing will only have you slaughtered. And likely half the city blown up in the process. And for what reason? Your death would only bring war to the south. If we fall back, we can fight them on even terms, not the low tricks they want to use.”

“It feels like I would be running like a coward,” Ned mumbled.

“Love, you are no coward,” Ella soothed him. “But when you go into a battlefield, you bring your sword, armour, and shield with you, so you and the enemy can fight on even ground. If you walk out there in plain clothes and waving a dinner knife around, you will never stand a chance. There is no shame in going to fetch your sword.” She smiled as she saw him relax, knowing her point had come across his thick head.

“Fine,” he surrendered. “But if I need to stay as a distraction, you _will_ take the children out. Promise me.”

“Don’t ask me to leave you behind like a pig to slaughter,” Ella said, her face contorting in pain.

“It won’t be like that,” he insisted.

“I doubt Robert suffered this accident accidentally!” she exclaimed, put out with his stubbornness. “Cersei killed the King, her husband. What do you think she will do with a man she hates and is not hierarchically as high up the chain?”

“I already agreed we need to fall back,” Ned said seriously. “But if the price of you and the children going to safety is my life, promise me you will take the children out of here.”

Lips quivering, she tried to blink away her tears to no use, and they ran down her face freely. “I promise. But know that if you stay my heart will stay with you. If they catch you, we are both dying.”

Ned hugged her tightly, understanding what she was saying and dreading it terribly.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ella was pacing the foyer at the bottom of the Tower of the Hand. Half their household guard, the ones who would be off-duty, had boarded overnight, using the disguise of a night out to cross the city and the cloak of dark to get to the ship. The first few trunks had already left the castle and it was with a squeezed heart that she and Wynafryd took Maester Byren’s watered down sleeping potion and fed it to the children, knowing the younger ones wouldn’t understand the absolute need to be silent and quiet, unmoving.

The young woman had left in the first trunk, Lucas and Serena sleeping and nestled against her. Rickon had gotten into the second, the thin sword Arya had given him clutched in his hands as he promised to protect a sleeping Cregan. Bertha was now climbing onto the cart, as she was the one visibly going North, her children and Jeyne Poole with her, waiting for the last trunks to be loaded. Ella took a sleeping Dyanna from her cradle now, hearing footsteps coming down the stairs and another trunk be set on the floor.

“Are you sure you will wait for Father, Ella?” Sansa asked softly.

“Do you have your dagger ready?” Ella asked in return, to which the girl nodded. “I’m going to ask you something nearly impossible, love. I need you to promise me that I can trust you.”

“Ella, no!” Sansa exclaimed, understanding what she would say. “I won’t leave you two behind!”

“You are the oldest, Sansa. Until your father and I board that ship, you will be the acting head of House Stark. If we don’t make it there, it will be your duty and your responsibility to ensure the safety of the pack.”

“Don’t put it like that, Ella. If the two of you stay behind…”

“We will be too valuable hostages for the Lannisters to waste,” Ella said. “The pack survives, Sansa. Promise me.”

“Ella, please!”

“Sansa, I _need_ to make sure your father is not doing something stupid! You know him, he will trust people to act with honour, even if he doesn’t trust Cersei! Please.”

“I promise,” Sansa said, visibly upset. “But you had better not make me do it.”

“I will try my best.” Ella smiled, kissed her daughter’s forehead and waited until Sansa had climbed into the trunk to set Dyanna next to her. “I will see you soon.”

“You’d better,” Sansa said as the guards closed the lid.

Ella watched them carry it away with a heavy heart, knowing the plan was the best they could come up with, that the trunks had breathing holes, but still worried. Poole came up to her.

“My lady, I feel it’s my duty to ask one last time,” he said, his face already resigned.

“You are escorting Bertha, her children, and the remains of the guards up North, Poole,” Ella repeated in a dulled voice. “Make sure they arrive safely.”

The steward nodded, unhappy but resigned, and left to join the others in the cart.

“The other two trunks are ready for you, my lady,” Alyn said.

“Have a few horses saddled and in the right place,” she said, ignoring his implicit request. “I have a feeling we might need to make a hasty retreat.”

She left the Tower of the Hand, walking quickly down to the throne room, where she knew Ned was supposed to be holding Court. Her skirt felt heavier, not in the right place, but it was the price to pay to have it over her riding leathers and the ties strategically easy to remove — this was not the day to be hindered by fashion. The little exploding balls also weighted in her pocket, and though she deeply hoped their use would not be necessary, it would create enough of a distraction to help a rushing retreat.

Her heart raced and she heard the commotion even from down the hall and Silver took off running from her side, a silver blur of movement flashing against the Gold Cloaks. By his growls and roars, the guards were not faring well, despite their armour and advantage in numbers.

“Kill that beast!” came Cersei’s high-pitched yells from the throne. “Kill the beast and take Lord Stark to the cells!”

“On what grounds?” Ella asked, bursting into the room and seeing Ned already passed out dangling in the arms of two Gold Cloaks, blood gushing from a large cut down the side his head, from forehead to the temple. “On what grounds do you arrest the Hand of the King?”

“The King is dead,” Cersei declared and though she kept her face mournful, Ella could hear the smile in her voice. “I am Queen Regent for King Tommen, so even as he travels home from Dragonstone it is my duty to ensure the ruling and order of the Seven Kingdoms. Lord Stark is guilty of treason, of claiming barbarities about his new King. We will hold his trial, as the law prescribes, in seven days. Now take him to the cells!”

“What about your trial, _Your Grace_?” Ella asked, hoping the Stark guards behind her would be able to improvise. The entire Court turned and began whispering.

“My trial?” Cersei snorted. “And what, in your deluded mind, do you accuse me of?”

“The assassination attempts of Lady Starling, Lord Robb Stark, and your own brother, Lord Tyrion Lannister, when he tried to stop you,” Ella declared and the people around were inflamed. “Also, by your own admission, for poisoning King Robert’s wine multiple times so he would get into an accident. By poisoning the wine sent in his last hunting trip so that the King would not return alive.”

As expected, Court was hectic, everyone speaking over themselves.

“Lies! You can’t prove any of that!” Cersei exclaimed from across the room.

“Knowledge is power,” Ella returned the phrase. “Besides, who said anything about needing to prove anything?”

She threw the balls, causing them to explode in a colourful and bright mess, blinding everyone who had their eyes opened, disorienting the guards as it reflected off their plate armours. With her eyelids opened to only a slit, Ella took the few steps to where Ned was being held, where Silver was already taking down the last of the guards as the throne room descended into a chaotic mess of blind people butting into each other.

Alyn, a quick one thank the gods, also had his eyes nearly closed and draped Ned over his shoulder. The other guards seemed only slighted affected, but Alyn whistled some secret code and they all turned to leave the room. Ella rushed ahead, turning down corridor after corridor before Cersei recovered and sent guards after them. Finally, with a storm of footsteps coming after them, they arrived at the entrance of a secret passage and she opened it quickly. The way inside was cavernous and dark, so Porther reached for a torch to lead the way, other guards grabbing the other two nearby torches.

Ella was hearing her heartbeat in her ears as they rushed down the steeped stone passageway. She had discarded her skirts halfway, glad to be rid of the hindrance. It seemed like it took hours before they finally saw daylight ahead and a grated passage. She took the old iron key Rhaegar had given her a lifetime ago and forced it into the rusted lock. Porther took over when she was unable to turn the key and after a long, tense moment, the grate groaned open.

The stableman was waiting nearby with a handful of saddled horses. Porther took the first and Alyn draped Ned in front of him as Ella took the second. She looked around and saw there would not be enough horses.

“Don’t worry about us, milady. We’ll go ‘round down the hill and try to get to the woods.”

Feeling bad, Ella nodded and kicked the horse into a canter, praying the gods would allow their faithful and loyal men to get out of this cursed city. The way down Aegon’s Hill was steep, the woods were too wild, since no one passed by here. She was hoping it would work, that the red cloaks and the gold cloaks would not know or imagine they had come this hidden path. The sounds from the harbour grew louder and her heart was now deafening on her ears as they dismounted and Alyn went to force the key into the hidden lock of another secret passage, a sally port on the walls of the city. But this opened easily, or rather, it was already opened and the guard merely pushed the grate.

“I imagined you would come this way,” Lord Varys said, smiling, from the outside of the wall. “I hope you won’t mind that I have brought you a gift.”

“We don’t have time for idle talk, Varys!” Ella said, leading the way to the boats waiting for them at the beach.

“Oh, don’t worry, the guards will have a hard time getting through the mess I managed to engineer in the harbour,” Varys said.

Ella smiled when she saw the ‘gift’. “Is this your way of asking to come along?”

The Spider shrugged, smirking. “Littlefinger is working with the Lannisters, so he will have told them that I was working closely with Lord Stark. Why should I take such an unnecessary risk, I wonder?”

“Don’t worry Varys, I can recognise your worth. Let’s go.”

“Much obliged, Lady Stark,” the eunuch said, boarding the boat after her. Their boat left first as the guards tried their best to hide the vestiges of where they had come from and sent the horses in the direction of the main harbour.

Sansa exhaled in huge relief when they boarded the ship, hugging her stepmother so tight it was uncomfortable.

“Take us out, Lord Manderly!” Ella commanded, hugging Sansa back for a moment and making sure the children were well before she went to search for Maester Byren. Cersei had better not have hurt her husband!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears!
> 
> In regards to Aegon and whether he is a pretender or not: we'll find out soon enough, but, as I said, Varys is not working with him.
> 
> Now, about the name of the black dragon: I know a lot of you won't like it and say it's cheap and a copycat because Aegon the Conqueror rode Balerion and so on, but I have a reason for choosing that name and Dany will explain it soon.
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed this chapter! As always, kudos and comments are my only reward for this, so don't be shy :)


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashara has to make a few decisions, Dany and Jon finally reunite, and Robb gets a lot of news.

Ella was pacing the length of the cabin, anxiety exuding from each pore of her body as she waited for the maester’s report. They had been on the sea for over half a day, so all the children had already woken up, marvelled at the fact they were going on an adventure, and ran up and down the deck until it began to rain and they were all chased to the cabins below.

Cregan, unable to grasp the full seriousness of the situation in his childish naïveté, had already fallen asleep, all scrunched up in the sofa, and the girls had settled long before in the cabin with Bertha watching over them. Rickon had lasted a little longer, but was just as curled up as his brother. Sansa was anxiously sitting in a chair, seeming like her whole world had fallen apart. The door opened and they both turned, but it was Lord Manderly coming in.

“Lady Stark, Lady Sansa. We’re well beyond the capital’s wall defences now, not that they have many ships now as the Royal Fleet answers to me and I’ve drafted them all as our escort. If they send a raven, we might expect trouble as we pass Dragonstone, but if Lord Stannis knows we have the King, since Lord Varys says he sent a raven, then I don’t foresee problems.”

“Well, at least Varys’ foresight in getting Robert out of the Red Keep will serve for more than to undermine Cersei,” Ella said.

“How does it undermine Cersei?” Sansa asked.

“Cersei told them Robert is dead, but they haven’t seen the body, haven’t seen confirmation yet, there has been no funeral,” Ella stopped her pacing to answer. “And without confirmation, her hold on the throne is weak, especially because Tommen isn’t there at the moment. Therefore, since we have Robert, we have an ace up our sleeve. She can’t finish killing him and she can’t prove to Court he is dead already.”

“Lord Varys’ aid was certainly providential, my lady, most pronouncedly the raven to Dragonstone so we would have safe passage. But, in any case, the Lannisters will expect us to turn north, so I imagine every single Lannister ship in transit to Essos will make a blockade for us — if they haven’t already placed ships there for this very reason. We must keep in mind that the Northern ships never arrived, so they must have found trouble in the way. Until Lord Stark wakes, my lady, the authority is yours. What should we do?”

Ella took a deep breath, thinking for a moment. “You are right, Lord Manderly. They will expect us to turn north and with Lord Starling and my brother in Essos with several ships, the Blessed Island is vulnerable enough, I would prefer to keep the fight away from them.”

“Reaching the North on the other side will mean going through Lannisport and the Iron Islands, not to mention stopping for supplies on the way,” Lord Manderly informed. “We could make it to Highgarden if we ration food and water, though.”

“We don’t need to go all the way to Highgarden,” Ella said and Lord Manderly nodded, understanding.

“We could stop at Starfall! Lord Dayne, my betrothed, will receive us! We would be easy prey in Dornish waters, though, would we not?” Sansa asked.

Ashara took another deep breath, exhaling slowly. “No. No, we wouldn’t be. Prince Doran wouldn’t let them. Once we’re beyond Dragonstone, take down the Royal banners, Lord Manderly. Fly only House Stark’s sigil or white flags. Sunspear will let us through and the Dornish will follow their example. If Prince Oberyn hears about it and finds himself in the mood, he might even come to join the escort and annoy all of us with his presence.”

Sansa frowned, confused. “So where are we going?”

“Take me home, Lord Manderly,” Ashara said. “Take me home to Starfall. And as Lady Sansa said, her betrothed, my nephew, will receive us.”

Sansa was so shocked she didn’t even care that her chin dropped.

“I’ll see to preparations,” Lord Manderly said, quickly leaving the cabin.

“What do you mean, ‘take you home to Starfall’? And Edric… Edric is your nephew?”

“I’m sorry, Sansa. We didn’t… first you were too young and then I was… I didn’t want to put the burden of this secret on you.”

“What secret?” Sansa asked, the dots connecting but needing to hear the confirmation.

“I’m not a commoner,” Ashara said softly. “My name is not Ella. I am the Lady Ashara of House Dayne.”

“You can’t be,” Sansa said. “Lady Ashara is dead!”

“We faked it. I never jumped. I left my shoe in the tower and took a hidden staircase down to a boat where Arthur was waiting for me.”

“Arthur… you mean… Uncle Ad— but when Father went to save Aunt Lyanna, he… he got through Ser Arthur Dayne. Everyone knows that.”

“That’s another lie, my sweet. We… we created this whole theatre and lies.”

“But why? Why would you fake your death? And Father… Father knows, doesn’t he?”

“Of course he does,” Ashara was quick to reassure. “He was in on the plan. He always knew we weren’t dead.”

“But why? Why did you lie? Why did Father lie?”

Ashara sighed, knowing it was time. “We had to. You see, Arthur was more than only a Kingsguard: he had been the one guarding Lyanna and he was Rhaegar’s best friend. Robert would have had him killed without trial, without a second thought. As for me… I knew, I had always known where Lyanna was and I was also Elia’s best friend. We lied because it was what was safer. We lied to protect our family, to protect House Dayne.” She exhaled heavily. “And we lied to protect Jon.”

“Jon? What? How does… I don’t understand!” Sansa was very confused.

“I will explain,” Ashara said. “You’re old enough now and war has broken. Keeping you in the dark will only put you in danger.” She sat down next to her stepdaughter. “This is not a happy tale, Sansa. But it starts a while ago. Some say it started in Harrenhall, on the day all smiles died. Actually, it started long before. I think it really started when people began plotting behind each other’s back, but it became unavoidable after the Defiance of Dukensdale.” She snorted. “Who would have thought one malcontent lord could lead up such a mess?”

And so Ashara begun the story, telling every detail she remembered. At least it was a good distraction while they waited for news.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It was morning when Maester Byren delicately shook Ashara awake. She sat in a jump, looking around, relaxing slowly.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Lord Stark will recover,” the man said and she wept in relief. “But he suffered a severe head injury, my lady. I will be watching closely over him, but I don’t think he will be awake for a few days yet.”

“But he _will_ wake?”

“I can say that everything points in that direction, my lady, but I cannot make a full promise.”

Ashara nodded, understanding but unhappy. “And the _King_?”

“I have no idea how he survived the move to the ship, my lady,” Maester Byren was visibly impressed. “His insides were not severely damaged, but a wound that big… I’ll do my best to stop it from festering, but this is not the best place for that. Besides, it is a very big wound. The chances of something going badly…”

“Well, to be honest, I don’t care. He deserves to die in pain for all that he’s done,” Ashara said, looking out the little round window. “But I would like to talk to him one last time, if possible.”

“My lady, I feel it is my duty to advise against getting revenge from a moribund.”

“I only wish to tell him about Lady Lyanna’s last words, Maester. I’m sure he would like to hear them.”

The Maester only nodded uneasily, leaving her alone in her cabin. Ashara sat back down, weary. Maybe it was petty of her, to want to cause pain to a dying man, but she thought he deserved it. How many people hadn’t his wounded ego killed? The atrocities he had committed in the name of his love for Lyanna… wife and children of his enemy they might have been, but what he had endorsed, how he had rewarded the Lannisters for the brutal murder of Elia and the children… she and her brother, exiled from their home, living for years in hiding. Yes, she would throw the truth in Robert’s face.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Aegon looked around with a smile on his face. He was covered with sweat, blood, and soot, but he had won. Dragonstone was his. The ancestral home of his family, once again under Targaryen control. The beach was bathed in blood, but the sea and one storm would clean it, erase these macabre vestiges. The Lannisters had taken too long to notice them, what they had planned all along, so by the time their ships approached the lion flags, they had lost half their forces by destroying Stannis Baratheon’s. Besides, some of their ships sent their soldiers to the beach to take the castle, once again making their job easier. By the time Aegon’s fleet finished off the Lannister’s and took the beach, the gates were also breached.

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Jon cautioned, standing next to him. “The path to the castle won’t be easy. It’s a narrow bridge, can only fit two men side by side, and there’s a tower for the archers to pick them out.”

“How many men do you think are protecting the castle?” Aegon asked.

“No idea. But a handful of archers can keep us away, trust me.” Jon exhaled.

Haldon came running, a smile on his face. “Your Grace, you should come and see!”

Aegon turned and they followed the man down the beach to where a body lay on the dark sand. Jon smiled.

“Who is that?” Aegon asked.

“That,” Jon said, “is Stannis Baratheon.”

“Well, well, well.” Aegon was smiling too, now. “Send a messenger to the castle, waving a white flag. Tell them we have their lord in our power and we expect their surrender by dawn or we will attack and kill every last man and woman inside.”

Haldon nodded. “Should we tell them of Lord Stannis’ condition?”

“I don’t see the need,” Aegon said.

The man left to find a messenger and Jon turned to the young man. “You know they’ll expect Stannis alive, don’t you?”

“Their expectations are their own business, Father. I have not promised them to return Stannis alive, so I won’t be breaking my word. Besides what sort of a fool would I be to take a castle and let the previous lord walk away?”

“I also hope you won’t be killing _every_ last man and woman inside,” Jon countered.

“Of course not! From what we heard, the Usurper’s two remaining trueborn children, plus one of his bastards are inside. Not to mention a niece, I believe. Renly Baratheon, who is childless, might agree to fealty in exchange for the niece and the Lannisters will bow to us in exchange of their own.”

“Will you stoop down to their level?” Jon asked cautiously.

“No.” Aegon’s voice turned hard. “I won’t have them killed. How can I judge them for killing the enemy’s heir and do the same myself? They will pay for the deaths of my mother and sister, especially for _how_ they defiled my mother. But the children are innocent.”

Jon nodded, not bothering to hide his relief.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Cersei drummed her finger on the arm of her chair, her impatience getting the best of her. So far, the only satisfaction she had had was that of killing Robert. The common whore Ned Stark had married had managed to abscond from the capital, after screaming accusations to add to those the man himself had already made (and she had privately confirmed) to the entire Court. She could feel their eyes on her now, whispering and gossiping behind her back, kept in line only due to the scores of red cloaks in the castle.

And Lady Stark… Cersei scoffed. She was too opinionated for a commoner, she carried herself like a noble, but she had the blood of a lowborn. _Once they are captured_ , Cersei thought, _I shall have great pleasure showing Lady Stark that she might have whored her way to a title, but she will never be a noble!_

So now Cersei had a dead husband — though no one had yet seen the confirmation of his death —, no Stark hostages to keep the North in line, and no news from the fleet in Dragonstone. Not to mention how Catelyn Tully _still_ had Jaime. She was not in a good mood.

Finally, the clinking of chains and dragged footsteps announced the Grand Maester.

“Your Grace. You sent for me?”

“What are the news from Dragonstone, Grand Maester?”

“Nothing yet, my queen.”

“That’s impossible!” She clenched her fists in anger. “It’s been days! They should have taken the castle by now!”

“Perhaps they have, Your Grace,” Pycelle coughed, “but were unable to send a message. I thought your lord father’s spies were supposed to take out Dragonstone’s rookery.”

“Yes, reason why the maester aboard the Lannister ships had ravens who could send messages to us once they took the castle. I want my children, Grand Maester. I need information from Dragonstone.”

“I know, Your Grace, I know. Except… well, Lord Varys is gone—”

“Another traitor who will soon be dealt with,” Cersei muttered.

“Certainly, my queen, certainly. But with Lord Varys gone, we haven’t been able to get a hold of his little birds.”

“The Spider is not the only spy master on the continent, Grand Maester. Find me another Master of Whispers. And I don’t care how you’ll do it, but send men to Dragonstone and find out what is happening there!”

“But Your Grace… the Starks… they took what was left of the Royal fleet! We don’t have any ships to…”

“Then commandeer a merchant ship! There must be dozens in the harbour!” Cersei ordered, but frowned once she saw the man’s face. “What?”

“There are no merchant ships left, Your Grace. Those that were here when the Starks fled, those who weren’t damaged or lost after the fight in the harbour, they left right after. None have come near since then.”

“This is King’s Landing. The capital of the Seven Kingdoms! Don’t tell me there is no one coming to trade!”

“Yes, yes, right you are, Your Grace. Except King’s Landing lies at the end of the Blackwater Bay and there is a battle happening at its mouth, for the control of Dragonstone. Few merchants venture through such conditions. Until we take the island, we are blocked off the sea.”

Cersei roared in anger. “Then send ravens to the Crownlands Houses, tell them to send one of their own ships to investigate!”

“I will do as you command, my queen. But if you will forgive me my meddling, the Crownlands Houses are sworn to Dragonstone—”

“I am their Queen!”

“And in the Targaryen time being sworn to Dragonstone meant being sworn to the Royal Family. Now we have Lannister ships trying to take Dragonstone. Under the guise of escorting the King and the Princess home, obviously, but there to take the castle if need be. The Crownlands Houses will likely join Lord Stannis and not House Lannister.”

Cersei screamed, throwing a vase across the room. “Send the ravens. Make sure to tell them that they _will_ side with the Crown, who sent the ships to Dragonstone merely to escort their King home, or they will be branded traitors to the Iron Throne.”

“Your Grace, are you certain that is wise?”

“Send the ravens!”

The Grand Maester nodded and retreated quickly, scared at her anger.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Oberyn boarded the leading ship with anxiety and concern, emotions he didn’t much care for. But when the scouts had come into Sunspear saying a fleet of at least twenty ships approached, the flagship sporting the sigil of House Stark, he had only ordered his horse saddled. Ashara would have warned him. If she hadn’t, and if the rumours from the capital were true…

The Master of Ships, the fat northern merman, came with all courtesies, but the Prince couldn’t care less for them, keeping only to the bare minimum of niceties.

“And who else do you have on board?” he asked. “You fly the Stark sigil, but—”

“I thought you might join us,” Ashara said, coming up on deck.

He smiled, then raised an eyebrow. “Lady Stark in Dornish waters. That is a surprise.”

She smirked, seeing him fishing for confirmation. “I don’t see why, Your Grace. I'm a Dornish lady.”

“Well, finally!” Oberyn said, crossing the few steps and pulling her into a hug. “I missed you, Ash!”

“I missed you too, Oby.” She smiled. “So, do we have safe passage?”

He snorted. “As if you wouldn’t deck my head until I agreed to it.”

“Technically, I need _Doran_ to agree to it.”

“He sent me as an emissary. Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Awesome,” Oberyn said, turning to the girl behind him. “Lady Ashara Dayne, might I introduce my eldest daughter, Nymeria.”

“Lady Stark,” the girl greeted. “I’ve heard several tales of you from my father and uncle.”

“Tales in which I'm sure they painted themselves as the knights in shining armour,” Ashara said, seeing Sansa come up as well. The girl was still upset and distant for being lied to, but Ashara knew they would get past that.

Nymeria laughed. “I'm Dornish, Lady Stark. We know better than to believe in the male ego.”

“We certainly do. Might I introduce my stepdaughter, Lady Sansa.” The social courtesies were exchanged.

“Nym, go back to shore and tell them to deploy the fleet as extra escort to Lady Stark — we’re sailing to Starfall and I want to mount a blockade on each side of the Summer Sea,” Oberyn ordered. “I'm assuming, since these are Royal Ships, that the Lannisters will come in your heels?”

“Something like that,” Ashara said. “I’ll give more details in a moment. And I thought the Dornish had no fleet.”

“After our little conversation in the Midnight Fortress all those years ago, I talked to Arianne and she talked some sense into Doran. Well, _slammed_ some sense into him, more like. It was a challenge, given the number of trees we have, but we managed a decent fleet.”

“Lord Manderly,” Ashara called. “Leave a few ships to join the Dornish blockade. We now have the numbers to spare.”

“As you command, my lady.”

“Oby, you should send a message to Doran as well,” Ashara continued. “We’ve had to flee the capital. The Lannisters seized power.”

Oberyn nodded, his face solemn. “Nym, you heard Lady Stark. Send a message to Arianne in Sunspear. Tell her to raise our banners.”

Ashara led Oberyn down to the command cabin as Nymeria went back ashore.

“So,” the Prince said, unceremoniously plopping down onto a chair, “how big a mess are we in?”

“Cersei engineered Robert’s death and seized the throne,” Ashara said.

Oberyn snorted. “Please tell me he died in pain.”

“He is in pain, but he isn’t dead. Not yet. And call me petty, but I’m hoping he will wake long enough to hear some truths.” She shrugged. “There is more.”

“I suppose so, otherwise you would have seized the capital back from the lions.”

“Cersei tried to have Ned arrested,” Ashara revealed. “The children were already hidden away aboard the ship, but Ned and I had to make a clever escape.”

“I assume he wanted you and the children away from the fight. After all, we know how the Lannisters treat wives and children of their enemies.” Oberyn sat up straighter, frowning. “But why did she try to have him arrested?”

Ashara sighed. The guards who had been in the throne room had told her the details and she still felt like rolling her eyes. “He decided to claim Tommen and Myrcella’s illegitimacy in order to keep Cersei away from the throne. Because she installed herself as Regent even when Robert had made Ned the Lord Protector.”

“You were alone in the capital! Is he stupid?!”

“Well, I’ll admit it was a short-sighted move.” Ashara exhaled. “He’s still too honourable for politics. He thought the Court would side with him.”

“You know, I am astonished that he survived five years as Hand.” Oberyn snorted. “How much did you interfere?”

“Ned was trying to create a distraction so we could board the ships. Don’t be unkind, Oby.”

“Fine, I’ll refrain from further commentary. Are they really illegitimate?”

“Yes. They’re Jaime’s bastards,” Ashara revealed.

“The sick bitch.” Oberyn snorted. “She wanted to be a Targaryen so badly she fucked her brother. That is some serious, deranged…”

“I don’t care to talk about Cersei’s delusions,” Ashara cut in. “But there is something we should speak of. About House Targaryen.”

“What is the latest news from Essos?” Oberyn asked and she couldn’t fault him for his eagerness: one of his daughters was there.

“Only what I sent in my last raven. They left Volantis and are going to Meereen to find Daenerys. But once they head back west…”

“When they head back west, we will be supporting them,” Oberyn said.

Ashara looked at him seriously. “Them?”

Oberyn smiled. “Elia wrote. I had always known she didn’t love Rhaegar, not any more than a good friend. And she was terrified the Mad King would force her to get pregnant again. So when Rhaegar fell for the wolf girl, she was so relieved for the chance of an out. I knew she and Rhaegar were separating and I knew he intended to marry the wolf girl. I suppose, Elia just never had the chance to tell me that it had already happened. So when Edric let me into the secret that your baby had been a girl…”

“I do have to confess I am very relieved you already knew this part. I was not looking forward to telling you and having to deal with your temper.” She huffed. “And I knew you had figured it out once you heard about Lyarra.”

“Ned Stark is not the type to go siring bastards around, especially when he’d left a pregnant wife at home. And that boy is definitely a Stark. But then you lied to me—”

“I didn’t lie.” She chuckled. “I only asked who else would Ned have a bastard with.”

“Sneaky.” He laughed. “Anyway, I knew you wouldn’t have lied for no reason, so I started wondering. Perhaps the boy was Brandon’s and Ned had claimed him to avoid an argument over inheritance. But then in the North they would never give a castle to a bastard when there were other legitimate male heirs. Besides, Brandon had never come as far as Dorne and everyone knew where the boy had come from. Then didn’t it seem so odd that Ned Stark comes to our kingdom in search of his sister — whom your brother was helping guard — and returns with her bones and a baby boy? Not to mention how Arthur shadows the boy, it’s very telling.” He laughed again. “I wish I could be there to see Tywin’s face when he hears. It’s so obvious I don’t know how no one put it together.”

“People see what they want to see, Oby, especially after a bloody and long war. So, can we count on your support?”

“Don’t think I’ll let Rhaegar’s insult pass by! The boy better be prepared to honour my sister as his father’s first wife or—”

“That boy is your King,” Ashara pointed out.

“The deal was that Aegon would be king. That my nephew would sit the throne.”

“You can take that one up with the Lannisters! Jon has nothing to do with it!”

“Fine. But I won’t have my sister bad-mouthed as the scorned wife while the nice prince lived out his fancies!”

“And I doubt Jon would allow for it. Ned raised him better than that. We both want the Lannisters down, Oby. Let’s work together and make it happen.”

“I have a condition. Well, two actually. Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys will be honoured.”

“That’s an easy caveat to agree to,” Ashara said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“And the next consort is a Martell. I don’t care what they’ll do, if they’ll keep the girl or the boy as their heir, but they marry Arianne’s child.”

“I can’t make that deal without talking with them,” Ashara said. “And I thought Ari… I thought she didn’t have children.”

“She’s pregnant again. The midwives are optimistic.”

“I’ll talk to them and try to persuade them,” Ashara said. “But I can’t promise you anything.”

“I won’t stop you from getting home and I won’t get in the middle of the Dayne–Stark alliance. Also, I will keep the ships blocking the Summer Sea from the Lannisters. But if the Targaryens want a deal, they should ask before coming this way.”

Ashara nodded and watched him storm out of the cabin. All in all, this had gone better than she had expected.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jaime looked out the “window” and felt a shiver go down his back. “I would say this is better than fighting back mountain clans at least three times a day, but I’m not so sure it is.”

Tyrion snorted. “Why, brother, where is your sense of adventure?” The dwarf laughed as Jaime glared. “I for one am thankful that I’m no longer shackled to a smelly knight of the Vale just so you would behave and not try anything funny.”

“They knew the way through the castle,” Jaime murmured, repeating it just as quietly once Tyrion only frowned. “The men who brought us. The knights of the Vale stayed upstairs, the ones who brought us down here were supposedly from the Riverlands. But they knew their way through the castle, they didn’t need someone to point out directions or guide them. They brought us straight here, no getting lost.”

“I see.” Tyrion scoffed. “And since Lysa Arryn and her father don’t get along, we can’t say these men are constant visitors. The Vale has been more or less closed for foreign visitors for years now, ever since Jon Arryn died. So we have knights of the Vale posing as knights from the Riverlands and coincidently sitting in the Crossroads Inn as Catelyn Tully is there and decides to take us captive.”

“There’s no way they could’ve known,” Jaime said. “Ned Stark was the only one who knew where I was going, he was the one who asked Ser Barristan to give me leave so he wouldn’t ask questions. And whatever he is, despite his monumental lie, Ned Stark is not a schemer. Besides, look how long it took us to get here, there is no way they managed the journey to the Crossroads in the time it took me from King’s Landing to there.”

“But Littlefinger is. A schemer, I mean.” Tyrion’s mind was racing. “Maybe he didn’t know you would be there — as you said, no one knew. But the time it took _me_ to come from the North… his spies had plenty of time to warn him. His men had plenty of time to travel there and wait for me. I was traveling with Starling guards, so I wouldn’t be coming home. I have no business in the Vale or in the Riverlands. And even if I had, it was still very likely that I would stop at the Crossroads, most people do. If he knew Catelyn was on the move…”

“Littlefinger is working with Father,” Jaime said. “Why would he get tangled in kidnapping us? He’s the kind who values his head more than his honour.”

“Littlefinger works by himself, he only pretends to work with anyone else. He plays his own game and doesn’t care who wins so long as he does too. Hence why half the men were disguised as men from the Riverlands, to make it look like Catelyn raised support by herself, with her name and birth and family connections,” Tyrion deduced. “But Catelyn Tully fell — actually, she plummeted from grace. No knight would risk the rage of our dear father for a woman scorned by both her husband and her father, a woman sent to the sept to get out of the way. Not unless they had received such orders. And Littlefinger isn’t here — he likely went on a tour of the Vale once he heard, so he can let Catelyn and Lysa do as they will and then he swoops in to save us and wins Father’s favour.” He snorted. “He is still trying to start a war, the slimy bastard!”

“What does he get from a war?” Jaime wondered.

“Before the last war, he was a nobody, a poor lord from the Vale who wore worn and torn clothes and had nothing to his name. Then he backed the right horse and he rose to Master of Coin, he made a lot of money in a still profitable business in the capital, and he managed to make himself the unofficial Lord of the Eyrie. He is greedy.”

“You can’t tell me you think _Littlefinger_ made all of this happen!” Jaime hissed through his teeth.

“Of course not.” Tyrion rolled his eyes. “But all it takes is one ill-intentioned greedy man to make a bad situation even worse. Besides, our dear sister is quite capable of starting this war by herself.”

Jaime exhaled, throwing himself back to lie down facing the stone ceiling of their cell. “How long do you think they’ll keep us here?”

“I believe it depends on what Cersei and Ned Stark are bickering about in the capital. By now they had to have heard about our capture and must be fighting a war between themselves over it. So, since Cersei likes to do as she pleases without caring for consequences, it could be a while.”

Jaime only sighed. He should have gone back to Dragonstone. He would be sitting with Myrcella and Tommen now, probably listening to another silly story about one of his cats or her dolls. Gods, how could a grown man yearn for such things like silly cats and dolls?

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Daenerys stood on the balcony, watching the three dragons play on the large battlement. They were thumping each other, already as big as small cats, little more than smoke poofing out of their noses. She had thought conquering the city and freeing all these people would soothe the emptiness of her heart, but it hadn’t. She had felt triumph once Drogo won the fight, she had been moved when the group sent to infiltrate the city managed to open the gates and the now freedmen and women came out, calling her Mhysa and carrying her to the Great Pyramid. She had been furious when the slaver families refused to even try to negotiate the abolition. But now, weeks later, the city under her control, she felt nothing but emptiness.

And more than emptiness. Today, she just… she just wanted to skip the day and wake up tomorrow, hoping against hope that it would be less terrible.

“Your Grace?”

“Yes, Missandei?” Dany asked her new handmaiden.

“Should I help you dress for supper?”

Dany shook her head. “I am not hungry.” _And I really can’t face a dinner table today_ , she thought.

“Your Grace, please, you must eat.”

“Whatever for? There is nothing else left for me in this world.”

“Don’t say that, my Queen.”

“Queen!” Dany snorted. “I took a city because an army saw fit to follow me. Because I was able to hatch dragons from stone. I have a name, and nothing else.”

“You changed the lives of thousands of people by offering them freedom, Your Grace,” Missandei said.

“I merely treated you like people, as you should be treated,” Dany waved her off.

“You have a family across the Narrow Sea,” the translator insisted.

And that stung Dany like nothing else could. “A dead family.”

“Not all of them are dead.”

“My husband and children are dead and our home is burnt down to ashes. There is nothing left for me in Westeros, nothing but to remain hostage to the whims of a man who slaughtered my family twenty years ago and wouldn’t care to keep me alive now that I’m no longer a defenceless babe and therefore he wouldn’t be accused of cruelty. There is only death in Westeros for me and my dragons.”

“You are the Mother of Dragons, Your Grace. You are no man’s hostage.”

“Mother of Dragons,” Dany whispered, her voice cracking, her hand clutching the unchanged curve of her belly, “no longer of children. Never again of children.”

Missandei was at a loss of what to say. How do you convince a woman who had just lost her husband and children, her home, to keep on living? The door burst open and Ser Jorah rushed in, his breath failing as if he had run across town faster than his age allowed for. He panted, leaning heavily on the doorway, unable to get the words out.

“Ships approaching, my queen,” Grey Worm, sweating and a little out of breath, but otherwise unaffected by the effort.

“The sigil…” Ser Jorah panted. “Starling… winter rose…”

Dany stiffened. _No_ , she thought. _The Starling forces fell. Jon is…_ She refused to finish the thought.

“Are you certain?” she asked in a trembling voice.

Jorah nodded, still trying to get his breathing under control. Dany tore out of the room, the dragons squawking behind her, displeased that she was leaving. She had to see. The courtyard had a view of the bay, and she could see blue and green flags cut against the afternoon sun. She ran down to the harbour, her heart racing in her chest, Missandei at her back and a whole squadron of Unsullied following after her.

By the time she got there, one of the ships had already docked. The flag was billowing in the warm air: a blue winter rose against grey silk _._ She gasped. Even if… someone from the Blessed Island had come, had found her this far away… her heart failed and she felt her eyes fill with tears when she felt the soft fur on her arm and she turned, sobbing when she saw Ghost.

She turned around in a whirl, hearing her name being called. His voice was familiar, unmistakable, the northern slur she had grown up hearing, that caressed her name like a lover, the voice she heard in her ear in the height of carnal pleasure, that whispered loving nonsense to her in sleepy nights by the fire.

“Jon!” she sobbed. Her legs moved without her noticing and she crossed the few steps between them, throwing her arms around him, crying harder when she felt the familiar strength of his arms tightening around her. _Safety_ , they screamed. _Home_. “You’re here. You’re alive. The children?” she panicked. “Where are the children?”

“Hey, hey, hey, they’re safe! They are fine, they are safe, back home! Aunt Ayla and Uncle Benjen have them.”

She sobbed harder. “They’re alive? Please, please, say it again, they are alive?”

“They are, love,” Jon said, holding her face and staring deep into her stormy violet eyes. “They are alive, safe, and protected in our home. And I’ve found you. I’ve found you and I'm never letting you go.”

Dany broke down in sobs, tightening the hug impossibly. Jon only held her back, inhaling her familiar scent. They were locked together for an infinite moment, until the Unsullied raised their voices. Dany stepped back, and saw the reason for the confusion.

“Ziry iksos mirre paktot,” she said, raising her hand to signal them to lower their spears. “Ñuha mandia issa.” (* _It’s all right. She is my sister._ )

Arya came forward, slowly sheathing Needle. “Impressive guards. Glad to see you, Dany. Next time a band of crazies kidnaps you, could you at least send a message or something saying where you are? A treasure hunt loses the appeal if you don’t have a map.”

Daenerys chuckled, pulling the young woman into a hug. “I can’t even describe how I feel seeing all of you. I thought… I was told the castle had fallen when they took me.”

“Oh please,” Arya laughed. “That castle has been standing since the Valyrian Freehold. Only an idiot would think it would fall that easily.”

Dany laughed as well, feeling as if she were floating amidst clouds, feeling Jon’s arms around her again. It seemed he was as eager as she was for the contact.

“Ñuha Dāria, kostilus, ivestragī īlva jikagon arlī naejot se sombāzmion,” Grey Worm said. (* _My Queen, please, let us return to the pyramid_.)

“Hen rhinka, udrāzmio. Jemagon se ñuhoso.” (* _Of course, commander. Lead the way._ )

“Ahm, what is happening?” Jon asked.

“Grey Worm is the Commander of the Unsullied,” Dany explained and the man in question nodded in greeting. “He thinks it best we return to the Great Pyramid. Grey Worm, this is my husband, Jon Starling.”

“Unsullied protect and fight for Queen Daenerys,” the man said in his heavily accented Common. “Unsullied protect her family as well, my king.”

Jon stiffened, thrown by the title and the feelings the recent revelation had brought up. And he hadn’t even told Dany yet. Somewhere deep down he felt as if he should be feeling repulsion, but he was so damned relieved at finding her that he couldn’t care less what people would now say about their marriage. They were Targaryens after all.

“It seems I have competition for the Kingsguard,” Arthur said, though he had a blinding smile on his face. “My queen. I have waited years to say these words.”

Dany only smiled. “You have no competition. Not ever.”

“It gladdens my heart. But I agree with Grey Worm. We should get back indoors. Unless the King has an objection,” the knight needled, earning himself a glare from Jon.

“Don’t start, Arthur,” he said between his teeth.

Dany frowned at the use of the name. “It seems we have lots to catch up on. Let’s go. We can talk over dinner. I am ravenous.”

She pretended not to see Missandei’s relieved sigh and smile as they turned to follow Grey Worm back to the Great Pyramid. Jon pulled her back, though, a blinding smile on his face as he pulled a little satchel from his pocket.

“Happy name day,” he said, offering Dany the package. She took it with a smile.

“You had time to stop for gifts on the way?”

“Call it wishful thinking.”

Dany only laughed, delighted. It was her best name day yet.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Robb, Margaery, Theon, Little Ned, and Little Jon were the only ones left in the Great Hall finishing a late breakfast that morning, Grey Wind enjoying immensely the bacon the oldest boy was throwing his way. Bran had already left for his daily ride with Jojen and Summer, and Robb was gathering the will to leave his wife and sons for his duties.

That was when Maester Luwin rushed in, his chains clinking loudly with how fast he was moving, a deep frown on his face.

“There was a raven from King’s Landing, my lord. It has the Lannister seal.”

Robb took it brusquely, immediately concerned.

 

_Lord Eddard of House Stark has committed high treason against the realm and when the Iron Throne ordered his capture to await trial, Lady Stark fled with him, the late King’s body, the Master of Ships, and the Royal Fleet. You, Lord Robb of House Stark, are hereby commanded to come to King’s Landing to swear fealty to the King, Tommen of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and as such, be given the North to rule in name of the Crown._

_Queen Cersei of House Lannister, Queen Regent_

 

Margaery gasped as Robb finished reading the message. “This can’t be,” she said in a whisper.

“It is not true. My father would never commit treason, much less all of this.”

“If the Lannisters want you to go south…” Theon started.

“You are summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to the new King. It is a Royal Command, my lord, you cannot refuse.”

“I will not refuse!” Robb exclaimed. “But I’ll be damned if they will invent lies about my father and expect me to go there to kiss their arses. I will go, but with—”

“There was a letter from Lady Stark as well,” Maester Luwin said, passing over the parchment.

 

_Dear Robb,_

_I do not know what has reached you yet, and a letter does not afford me room for a detailed account, but I shall try. My earlier raven informed you about the attack on your father, but I did not have room for details, so I shall give them now._

_The Lannisters organised a terrible coup. Using Lord Tyrion’s and Ser Jaime’s kidnapping by your mother as excuse, Cersei sent men to confront your father in the streets — there was a brawl that cost the lives of the guards with him, Jory included, but of course they were not mad enough to kill Ned._

_Robert Baratheon then went out in a hunt, where he was injured by a boar. Cersei attempted to install Tommen as king even before his death — which we are trying to delay as much as possible and though the maester has said it is a miracle that he has survived this far, he will not make it much longer. Your father is unconscious, Robb, he has been ever since we fled the capital. He has had brief, fleeting moments of consciousness, but he is always in such incoherent pain that Maester Byren has been keeping him asleep until he can heal better. But he will recover. I **know** he will._

_Your father had noticed things starting to go awry for days, even before Cersei’s attack, but ever since we heard Catelyn had kidnapped Tyrion and Jaime, once we realised that the Northern ships sent to us did not arrive, Ned ordered the fleet prepared and the family was already packed to leave._

_Once Robert returned wounded, Cersei tried to seize power and, while the children boarded the ship, your father tried to create a diversion. I had enough time to get everyone aboard and we left the capital. Lord Manderly feared, and I agreed, that if the Lannisters had been planning that, that if the Northern ships had not found passage, then there would be a blockade north, so we turned south. Prince Oberyn Martell allowed us safe passage through the Summer Sea in his brother’s name as we sail further west to Starfall, where we will, of course, be received. I shall send you more news once we are safe amidst family. We are safe for now, Robb: your father, me, Sansa, Rickon, Cregan, Serena, Dyanna, and Silver._

_But for now, the Lannisters have declared war, Robb. As Lady Regent of Moat Cailin, I have commanded Lord Robett to close the Moat and be prepared for attack. I know I do not have the power nor the authority over the North, but I wish you would raise the banners. Your father trusts you, Robb, and he knows, as well as I do, that until he wakes and is fully able to retake his position as Lord of Winterfell, you will protect the North and House Stark._

_Please send a raven warning Benjen to be aware of possible attacks through the Narrow Sea, especially because Jon and Arthur took several ships to Essos. Dawn should be able to find me, but unless you have any immediate and urgent matter, I would prefer if you kept her and forwarded any messages via raven to Starfall. I have told her to follow your commands, and she is a good girl. Please, keep her safe — she is a long-standing secret of House Dayne, which I share only because of direst necessity._

_All my love,_

_Lady Ashara Dayne of House Stark, Lady of Winterfell_

 

Robb was feeling so many conflicting emotions that he was having a hard time putting them all in order. Father, Mother, Robert attacked, Lannister coup. Father. Father is safe. Ash— he blanched. His stepmother had used her real name with no worry that the letter could be intercepted. Whichever bird this Dawn was, even if none of the other Houses knew of its use…

“The Lannisters seized power,” he announced. Margaery gasped again, holding Little Jon even closer to her chest. “Robert is on his last days, though still alive, but they’ve already installed Tommen as King.” He pointed to the raven scroll.

“What about your father, stepmother, and siblings?” Margaery asked. “This letter is too big to have been brought by a raven, it has to be even older.”

“It was waiting for me on my desk,” Maester Luwin said, though Robb could see there was more he wouldn’t share in front of so many people.

“It matters not how the letter got here,” Robb said, his mind bubbling with too much concern and information. “Ashara said that she managed to get my father, herself, and the children—”

“Ashara?” Theon asked. “Who the hells is Ashara?”

Robb cursed his slip up. But then he supposed it was beyond mattering now. “My stepmother, Lady Ashara of House Dayne.” Both the ironborn and Margaery were shocked. “She took my father, Robert Baratheon, and my siblings down to Starfall, where Edric will certainly receive them, and she’ll send more news once she arrives. Now,” he took a deep breath, “the Lannisters have attacked my father, slandered his good name, and commanded me to go down there to coddle them.”

“As I have said, my lord,” Maester Luwin pointed out, “it is a Royal Command. If you should refuse to obey…”

“I will not refuse. Her Grace wants me to go to King's Landing, I will go to King's Landing. But not alone. Call the banners.”

“All of them, my lord?” the maester asked.

“They have all sworn to defend my father, have they not?”

“They have,” the maester agreed.

“I would see what their words are worth.” Robb said. Maester Luwin smiled as he left the room, and Robb sat back down.

“Are you afraid?” Theon asked.

Robb lifted his trembling hand. “I must be.”

“Good,” the ironborn said.

“Why is it good?”

“It means you’re not stupid.”

Robb smiled weakly, clenching his fists as he remembered his father’s words: a man can only be brave when he is afraid.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> It came to my attention while replying to comments that I had not made clear that Robert hadn't kicked it yet and that he was the gift Varys had brought, so I apologise for the oversight. Sometimes I have something so clear in my head that I forget there's no way you guys can know.
> 
> Anyway, hope you've enjoyed this chapter and, as always, I look forward to hearing your thoughts in comments and kudos form :)


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany begin to catch up while Cersei gets very unwelcome news.

Jon snorted as Dany pointed to the Great Pyramid, the tallest building in the city.

“You came all the way from there? Running? Didn’t you think it would be faster with a horse?” He had a teasing tone, trying to keep the mood light while they were in public.

“They told me the ships had the Starling sigil. I just took off running.” Dany shrugged, relishing the feel of his arms around her waist as they rode. “I thought…”

“You thought the castle had fallen,” he said softly. “Why? You wrote… your letter said you saw it?”

Dany blushed. “So I suppose you and Kinvara met. What… what else did she tell you?” she asked and Jon, with a soft smile, slid his hand down her waist. She seized his wrist and held him so strongly her nails left indents. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He felt his heart shrinking with pain, but entwined their fingers, squeezing her hand just as strongly. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. I…”

“I doubt it could be,” Jon cut in gently. “We’ll talk more later.”

She nodded and let her head rest on his shoulder as they crossed through the city. The Unsullied and Starling soldiers were surrounding them as they were making their way down the narrow streets. Dany and Jon were right behind on Winterstorm, Arthur and Ghost flanking them. Arya, Nymeria, Willas, Hobber Redwyne, Grenn, Gendry, Patrik, Irri, and the rest do their retinue followed as Ser Davos and Salladhor Saan stayed behind at the harbour to organise the disembarking. Dany would have to find space among the Unsullied, the Second Sons, and the Dothraki for their men, the Royal sailors, and the Redwynes.

Irri had been anxious when told that the Dothraki were here, but Dany had assured her there would be absolutely no danger to her. Still, the young woman had hovered near Dany until they mounted and then she went to walk near Orys. Dany was sure they would marry soon — the voyage seemed to only have made them closer.

Once they arrived at the courtyard of the Great Pyramid, Dany stood with Arya, Sarella, and Irri as Jon went, escorted by Arthur, to annoy the stable boys with recommendations on how to care for his beloved horse. She rolled her eyes as another blue rose was presented to her, turning to Daario very annoyed.

“Why do you keep on trying?” she wondered.

“Because your beauty is too ethereal to…”

“You know, harassing a married woman is very bad for your health,” Sarella said with a smile both threatening and sweet. “Especially when she is the married _Queen_.”

“But the queen is a widow,” the sellsword was not dissuaded. “I am merely showing my appreciation for her and—”

“And unless you find yourself in dire need of making trouble, I suggest you leave Her Grace alone,” Arthur said, menacingly, suddenly pushing his way between Dany and Daario. Ghost came from the other side, making the Tyroshi take a step back.

“And just who are you?” Daario asked. “Because I’ve been guarding the Queen for—”

“Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword in the Morning, Kingsguard to House Targaryen. The Queen won’t be needing your guarding duties anymore.” He took great pleasure at seeing the other man blanch and take another step back. Call him childish, but he had missed the impact his name had on other people.

“Is there a particular reason why you are speaking to my wife?” Jon asked, also joining them, his face scrunched up in displeasure.

Daario gave a yellow smile. “It was my understanding you were dead. I was merely showing the Queen how her beauty should be appreciated. She is too young to be alone.”

“She is not alone,” Jon said in a cold tone as Ghost begun to snarl threateningly. “So unless the Queen has something to tell you, I suggest you go.”

Daario smirked and bowed to Dany. “It was a _pleasure_ to enjoy your company in all these weeks, my—”

Ghost growled and pushed the sellsword back — he was so tall his paw scratched Daario’s cheek. He stumbled back, visibly shocked with the direwolf’s strength.

“Slander the Queen’s good name again and I will make sure you will not do it a third time,” Arthur said, his hand on his pommel.

“Go down to the barracks and organise space to house the arriving soldiers, Daario,” Dany ordered coldly.

“There is no room in the barracks anymore, Your Grace,” the sellsword said, clenching his jaw in anger but not stupid enough to do anything but be polite.

“I suggest you find some,” Dany said. “Or I’m afraid I’ll have to quickly find myself 1,700 spaces.”

He swallowed dry at the open threat. “I shall do as my Queen commands.”

“Good.” Dany held her head high as he bowed again and left. Then she scratched between Ghost’s ears with a smile. “I’ve missed you, boy!”

The wolf nearly purred in pleasure and she chuckled as Jon, very sour-faced, came and passed a hand around her waist, pulling her close.

“You know I didn’t,” Dany said quietly to him.

“You thought I was dead.”

Arthur cleared his throat and everyone else walked a few steps away. Dany turned to face her husband, touching his cheeks to make him look at her, smiling softly and hating to see the turmoil in his beautiful grey eyes.

“Do you really think I care for you so little that, only weeks after allegedly loosing you, I’d allow any other into my bed?”

Jon blushed. “No. I… I know you wouldn’t. I just…” He hugged her tightly, their foreheads pressed together. “I was scared out of my mind, Dany. I just… I failed you. My own wife, and I let you be kidnapped from inside our bedchamber. While I was standing right there.” He snorted. “We have thousands of men protecting our castle and I… people call me a great swordsman, I’m a knight, I could defeat the bloody Mountain in single combat, but when I really needed to… I couldn’t protect you. I failed you, myself, and our children.”

“You didn’t,” Dany insisted, smiling. “It was Doreah. She got the sellswords through the Guard, she put Ghost to sleep, she left the door opened so they would get inside our chambers and take you out when you had your back turned. She knew we were sleeping in, she knew no one would come for us for a while yet. We were betrayed, Jon, it isn’t your fault.” He nodded, but didn’t seem very convinced. “Let’s go inside. I’m certain you haven’t had a bath in some time.”

Jon shuddered. “A decent one? Not since Volantis. Though there was a poor excuse of one in the inn we stayed in as we stopped by New Ghis.”

“Then come,” she said, pulling his hand. “It’s not anything like our pool back home, but it’s good enough.”

“We need to talk, Dany…”

“I know.” She smiled. “But it’s my name day. I’ve just spent moons and moons thinking I had lost you and our children.” A shadow went through her face and her smile faded. “I lost our baby. I just need a night of enjoyment before we can talk about serious stuff.”

He nodded and let her lead him through the pyramid until the Royal chambers. “I want to know the story of how you took the city, by the way,” Jon said with a smile.

“Tomorrow,” Dany promised, locking the door behind them and pulling him closer. “There will be enough time tomorrow.”

Jon wanted to say they should talk now, that there was a lot to discuss — the fact they were aunt and nephew for one — but he didn’t even try to resist, burying one hand in her hair and wrapping the other around her waist, their mouths consuming each other in a hot kiss. He lost track of how long they kissed, desperate hands tearing through clothes, and he didn’t even notice they moved until they hit a table. His mind hazy with love and lust and pleasure, he ripped Dany’s breeches off with a jerk and pushed her to sit on the table.

“Jon!” Dany called, her mind lost in a haze as he touched her. “Fuck!” She shook in his arms as he quickly brought her to a release with his clever fingers. “No play, Jon,” she begged in a sob. “I need you!”

He didn’t even contemplate refusing her, sealing their mouths together in another kiss as he positioned his cock to go where she wanted, where she was hot and wet and tight. It had been moons and moons since they were separated and the feeling was heavenly.

Their lust was too grand, uncontrollable, rough and urgent. Once they reached their releases, they sagged against each other, their skin damp with sweat.

“I missed you,” Dany whispered, breathing deeply, trying to capture his scent.

“No more than I missed you, love.”

There was a knock on the door leading to the bathing chamber. “Your Graces, the bath is ready,” Irri called, her voice muffled through the wooden barrier. “We’re leaving now.”

Dany chuckled. “They know us well, it seems.”

“After five years, it would be odd if they didn’t,” Jon said, also smiling, as he pulled out and stepped back to help her down the table. He frowned as he saw her wince. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, of course not,” she quickly reassured. “It’s been a while, that’s all.” He didn’t look convinced so she smiled. “Come, I want to soak in that tub, let the water wash off our cares, and make sweet and slow love now.”

He smiled softly and only followed.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Arya tried to refuse the help of the maid, but the girl didn’t speak the Common Tongue and her Valyrian was unreliable. And since Arya didn’t speak Ghiscari, there was a problem of communication. Anyway, it was good to have a decent bath drawn. The maid knelt by the tub and begun working on the tangled mess of her hair, a mess Arya hadn’t taken proper care of ever since leaving the Midnight Fortress. When she finally emerged from the bath, her hair untangled and unknotted, she found Irri sorting through her clothes and chuckled.

“Can’t blame Dany for dismissing you so quickly,” she said, to which the handmaiden only smiled. Irri said a string of words Arya didn’t understand and the maid only curtseyed and left.

“I’ve come with information for you,” the handmaid said with a smile. “If you never tell I’m the one who brought it.”

“Where is he?” Arya asked, excitement bubbling in her stomach.

“Lady Sarella interfered and he was given guest quarters,” Irri informed. “I’ll show you the way through the back passageways. Since the King and Queen are retired to their chambers, we won’t have a formal dinner, rather serve trays in each room. I’ll bring food for the both of you.”

“Irri, you are a treasure!” Arya smiled.

“Love is too hard to find, my lady, it should be treasured,” the handmaiden said, then took a vial from her pocket. “Don’t forget this.”

“I haven’t,” Arya promised, uncorking it and drinking it down.

“And don’t forget to come back before dawn, my lady. If the maids get to talking, they’ll tell the Queen.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve been in the same ship for months and I managed to keep it from Jon and Uncle Arthur. Let’s go!”

Arya felt silly with a silk nightgown and robe, things Sansa would hold so dear, but that meant nothing to her. But she hadn’t brought any clothes from the Midnight Fortress and on the way she’d bought leathers and tunics, not bothering with nightwear, so she was left with the option of taking what the maid offered. Irri led the way down the servant’s passages and they walked a very short distance before they stopped.

“Remember the way, my lady?” the handmaid asked.

“Aye, don’t worry. Thank you, Irri.”

She only smiled and rushed away. Biting her lip to contain her excitement, Arya pushed the door open, keeping her eyes and ears alert to check for signs that Gendry was not alone. But he was, also fresh from a bath, because he was wearing only thin cotton pants and there was water dripping down his back as he towelled his hair dry.

“You look relaxed,” she said, startling him, and he cursed as he turned around.

“Bloody…” he stopped short, taking in her appearance. “You look…”

“Silly? Girly? Ridic—?”

“I was going to say soft,” Gendry said, smiling, throwing the towel onto the table and closing the distance between them.

“Soft? What does soft mean?”

He chuckled. “It means that out there you wear your leather armour and your sword is on your hip and you’re the perfect warrior lady. But now… now you’ve left the armour behind. You look free and happy and _soft_.”

She laughed. “Alright, I still don’t get it, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“You should,” he said and then bent down to kiss her. “I like the look. You don’t look _girly_ , by the way. You’re a woman.”

“ _Your_ woman,” she whispered and Gendry stiffened, pulling back. Arya didn’t let go, though.

“Don’t say things like that. You know it’s impossible, Arya!”

“We’re not going to argue about it again,” she decreed. “I don’t know the future. We _can’t_ know the future. But right now, tonight, I am yours and you are mine.”

He was anguished, but he let her pull him closer. “It can never—”

“Tonight, Gendry. Let’s live in the moment. Please,” she let her voice slip into a begging tone she loathed.

“I love you,” he said and her heart raced. That hadn’t been spoken yet. “I love you, Arya Stark. I guess I’ve loved you from the first time you walked into the forge, wearing breeches and muddied boots. I’ve loved you in every ride when you visited and every letter we exchanged. I loved you when you decided to come on this voyage and I loved you every day and night since then. And for as long as we can have it, I am yours and you are mine.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she hated herself for the show of weakness. She pulled him down into a kiss, laughing and sobbing, tears rushing down as they parted.

“I love you, you great big oaf!”

“Somethings never change,” he said, amused, drawing her into another kiss, letting his hands roam to push the silk from her shoulders.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Sarella took a deep breath, aware that this conversation could ruin her plans. She had thought about rummaging for her boy disguise, but war had broken, she would have to go back to Dorne at least for now and, besides, everyone had seen her as a girl for moons on the way over. She knocked, hearing the permission to come in.

“Archmaester,” she greeted.

“Oh!” Marwyn looked up from the dragons. “I see. Finally, Lord Starling managed to catch up with us! It is nice to see you, Alleras, I won’t be ashamed of saying it. Though I should probably call you Lady Sarella, now that the disguise is gone.”

“You knew!” She gasped, surprised. “For how long?”

“Well, I believe you fooled me for a few moon turns. Well, after you started being my acolyte, before I don’t count. But I suppose it was very obvious once we left the Citadel. Always so private, regular visits to the rookery, ravens to and from Dorne…”

“And you never said anything?”

“Let me put it this way, I believe anyone who _wants_ to learn should be allowed to learn. What does it matter what you have between your legs?”

She smiled. “So if I want to go back to the Citadel…”

“Well, I won’t stop you. Now come, I’ve been tracking their growing! There is much to learn.”

Sarella finally noticed the three curious beings on the table. “Are those… they can’t be… but how…”

“Well, now that is a story,” Marwyn chuckled. “Mother of Dragons, they call her these days. Come, I’ll tell you as we try to stimulate their fire-breathing.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a great idea…” Sarella said.

“Oh, please, they are dragons! What else do you expect them to breathe? Better they learn properly than be left unchecked. I never took you for a coward.”

She glared at him, but came closer to the table, leafing through a notebook nearby. “How long until they reach their maximum size?”

“Dragons never stop growing,” Marwyn said. “That’s why the first Balerion was so big, because he lived for over two hundred years. If I remember correctly, they should reach the size to be ridden at about four or five years.”

“That’s too long if she wants to use them to conquer the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Maybe,” the Archmaester agreed. “But when the other option is the Lannisters, does she really need dragons?”

Sarella only smiled.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Pycelle was shaking from head to toe as he crossed the corridors of the Red Keep as fast as his decrepit ruse allowed. Perhaps even a bit _too_ fast. He didn’t actually _want_ to get there, but… he didn’t slow down.

“Your Grace,” he greeted, out of breath. “There was… a raven… from Dragonstone.”

“Finally!” Cersei smiled, putting her cup down. “What is that face?”

Pycelle only handed her then scroll and she frowned. Her heart failed a beat when she saw the sigil.

“This is not a Baratheon stag,” she mumbled.

“Nor is it a Lannister lion,” the Grand Maester muttered.

Her fingers shook as she touched the red wax. The _three-headed dragon_ marked onto the melted wax.

“She is supposed to be in Essos, kidnapped by… well, whoever took her!” Cersei yelled.

“I know, Your Grace, that is the last we heard. And if… well, if they sent it from Dragonstone it is because they took the castle.”

“Thank you, Grand Maester, but I could work that one out by myself,” she snapped. Pycelle wisely kept quiet as she ripped the seal open and unrolled the scroll.

 

_To the Usurper’s wife, who now sits as Usurping Regent,_

_Through this message, I come to both introduce myself and offer you a truce. Twenty-one years ago, in the Sack of King’s Landing, your mad dog believed to have killed Princess Elia Martell and her children. He was somewhat mistaken. I have survived, was smuggled to safety, and now I come back to Westeros, a man grown, to reclaim my family’s throne. I have already taken our ancestral seat and defeated your fleet and that of the Usurper’s dead brother. Surrender the capital, swear fealty to House Targaryen, and there shall be no battle. Resist and you will be held as rebels and traitors to the Crown._

_Kind regards,_

_Aegon of the House Targaryen, the Sixth of My Name, King of the Andals, the First Men, and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm_

 

“This is a LIE!” Cersei yelled, torn between rage and worry. Liar or not, pretender or not, this fool had taken Dragonstone, had sent a raven from Dragonstone. Where were her children? How had the Lannister fleet been defeated so easily?

“My queen, if I could know how to best counsel you…” Pycelle started, curiosity burning inside.

Cersei started laughing, a hysterical laughter, as she passed the scroll over.

“A pretender!” she exclaimed. “That is the only explanation! My father _saw_ Elia and the two brats! There is no way this is not a pretence!”

The Grand Maester’s eyes widened to tea saucers as he read and he was shocked into silence for a long moment.

“Perhaps…”

“IT IS A LIE!” Cersei screamed.

“We all hope it is, Your Grace, that much is true, but we have to account for all possibilities…”

“THERE ARE NO POSSIBILITIES! IT’S A LIE!” She was breathing hard now, her whole body trembling like a leaf in a windy day.

“Your Grace, the fact remains that the boy… well, after Ser Gregor… the remains were quite unrecognisable.” Cersei glared at him with such fury that Pycelle swallowed dry. “Perhaps we should convene the Small Council?”

She cackled another laugh. “What Small Council? Ned Stark was Hand of the King and he is gone! I named my father in his stead, but he is too busy leading the Lannister forces here! The Master of Coin, the crippled Tyrell boy, is in a voyage to Essos to rescue one of my enemies with part of _my_ fleet! The Master of Ships, the fat merman, left with the rest of my fleet to protect his traitor master. The Master of Laws, Robert’s idiot brother, vanished the same day as the Starks, probably run back to Storm’s End. The Master of Whispers is licking a wolf’s boot and I have dismissed the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard this past week because he is old and useless. There is no Small Council!”

“Then perhaps Your Grace should name one,” Pycelle said. “My queen, these are turbulent times and this new threat… you need a good group to support you.”

“Your Grace,” Bernadette, her handmaid, called, entering the solar. “The High Septon has arrived and Court has convened.”

“Thank you,” Cersei said, taking a few deep breaths and trying to put her thoughts in order. “Make sure Ser Ilyn is ready.”

“Ser Ilyn…” Pycelle was confused. “But why… Your Grace, you can’t mean…! The High Septon, Your Grace!”

“He let Catelyn Tully out of his clutches and she kidnapped my brother. He will answer for that betrayal.”

“Your Grace, I must object! You would unite everyone against you!”

“I’m a Lannister, Grand Maester. A lion doesn’t concern herself with the opinion of sheep.”

She stomped out of the room then, and Pycelle was left gaping like a fish out of water for a moment. Recovered, he rushed to his own solar as quickly as his ruse allowed. He needed to find a messenger urgently! Lord Tywin must hurry and stop his daughter before it was too late!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

True to Essosi fashion, the sun was barely out and already the heat was sweltering, especially for someone raised in the cool winds of the North. Jon groaned, fed up as he was every morning, but smiled nearly instantly. The body heat might have made it more uncomfortable, but he couldn’t mind one bit. He was finally holding his wife in his arms again. He tightened his hold on her, making their bodies sweat even more, and just breathed in the relief of her presence.

“I can’t mind the heat,” Dany whispered, blinking awake.

“Neither can I,” Jon said just as quietly, afraid to burst this bubble of happiness. Suddenly, she stiffened, going rigid as a rock in his arms. He pulled back and looked at her in concern. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Dany tried to brush it off. “It really is nothing,” she insisted when he didn’t look convinced.

“I know you too well, Dany. Come on, tell me.”

“I thought… but I didn’t. It was nothing. I didn’t feel anything. I haven’t been eating properly and last night we overindulged, that is all. It’s not lady-like to say it, but it’s gas. That’s it.”

“You haven’t been eating properly?” Jon frowned, sitting up when she scurried out of the bed, holding her back by her hand. “If you haven’t been eating properly, how come you’ve put on weight?” He poked her curved belly.

She blushed. “That’s not… that didn’t go away. Even after…” She pulled her hand free and went to the bench at the foot of the bed to pick up her nightgown.

Jon felt the stab in his heart. “Did you… did you bleed?”

She shook her head, trying to look away, but Jon quickly got out of the bed and pushed her chin up, so she would face him.

“I’m sorry,” her voice was thin and quiet and shaking.

“You don’t need to be sorry. You haven’t… I doubt you did it on purpose, Dany. You would never, ever, not in a million years, harm any of our children, born or unborn. What happened was… it was a fatality.”

“It wasn’t…”

“What? Did someone… Dany, please, tell me. I can’t bear to see you in so much pain.”

She bit a trembling lip and tried to look away, but Jon didn’t let her. “My brother. Viserys. He… he made a deal with the slave masters of this city. He would give them leave for slavery in the Seven Kingdoms, what would make them very, very rich, in return for their support to take the throne. He was… he was not _right_ , Jon. I could see it, right in front of me, what people described of my father, of the Mad King. He wanted the Iron Throne and, to be a proper Dragon King, he needed a proper Valyrian wife.”

“If he hurt you… if he dared to touch you…!” Jon’s temper flared, his blood boiling with cold anger in his veins.

“He didn’t have time to. But the sellsword captain who took me, Mero, he told Viserys I was pregnant. So he had a plan. He found a maegi and…” her lips shook as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m broken, Jon. I’m… I’m just broken!” She dissolved in sobs, too upset to talk. Baffled, Jon only held her, trying to soothe her but unaware of what had upset her so.

“Hey, hey,” he called once she began to calm down. “What do you mean?”

“I won’t… I won’t blame you if you want to set me aside…” she started weakly.

“I’m furious and offended you are even suggesting that!”

“I’m broken, Jon! I’m like an old vase or something, I can’t… I can’t be your wife anymore.”

“Why, exactly? Because we’re talking and I see nothing wrong with your mind, you’re just as sane as always! Besides, we promised ‘until the end of our days’ and I’m pretty sure it encompasses the days if you turn mad.”

“I’m not… I’m not talking about that…” Dany mumbled.

“Then please, by the Old Gods and the New, tell me what is happening. Why do you think you’re ‘broken’?

“The maegi had a potion. Viserys mixed it into my drink. I didn’t… I drank it because he took a sip before giving the cup into my hands, I didn’t think… but the potion wouldn’t affect him, it wouldn’t affect a man, so I just…”

“Dany, please, just tell me.”

“She cursed me, Jon. She… I can’t have children. I can never carry another baby.”

Jon squeezed her arms, trying to make sense of her words. His heart pulsed with pain, for himself and for her, but there was no hesitation. “That is no cause to even consider setting you aside.”

“Don’t you understand, Jon? I can’t… I can’t be a proper wife! I can’t give you heirs!”

“You have given me heirs, three of them as a matter of fact, who are at home waiting for Mama! And even if you hadn’t… Dany, I didn’t marry you because of your womb…”

“No, you married me because the Usurper told you to,” she snapped and regretted it immediately when she saw the hurt on his face.

“Well, yes. But I didn’t fall in love with your womb. I fell in love with _you_. With your heart, with your passion, compassion, wit, laugh, the way you smile, the way you… I fell in love with you over twenty years, every day a little bit more. You are _not_ broken, because I don’t think of or want you as a baby-maker. I want you as a partner and there is no potion in the world that can break you for that.”

She started crying again, hugging him tightly, what he was only too glad to return.

“Taking the risk of upsetting you again,” he broke the silence a long time later, once her tears were already dry, “but if your brother meant to marry you, to make you his ‘proper Valyrian wife’, isn’t it counter-productive to make you barren?”

She sighed deeply. “Well, it was a queer potion, to be sure. The Archmaester said he’s never heard of a spell such as this, and hopefully the maegi took its recipe with her to the hells. She didn’t make me fully barren. But… the curse is that I can only carry children fathered by a dragon. By a Targaryen.”

Jon gasped, flabbergasted. “You’re not serious…”

“I’m so sorry, my love…”

“No, no, no, you don’t… you don’t understand… I… gods, I never thought I would be so happy to have discovered this!”

It was Dany’s turn to be shocked. “You’re… happy? Jon, I… I just told you I can never carry your child.”

“Yes, you can!”

“Jon, didn’t you listen? I was cursed! You are a wolf! I can only carry a child fathered by a Targaryen!”

“Well, I am a wolf, aye, I mean, I’m half a wolf…”

“Yes, you’re half Stark, you’re not a Tar—”

“I found out who my mother is.”

“Your mo—” Dany was even more confused. “What does this have to do with anything? I mean, I’m happy for you, I know how much—”

“My mother was Lyanna Stark,” Jon revealed.

“Lyanna… Lyanna Stark. Lyanna… but… I don’t…”

“I know you, Dany, I’ve watched you over three pregnancies. What you felt earlier, it wasn’t gas. It was…”

“Just… just give me a moment!” she asked, taking a step back, trying to get her thoughts in order. “Your mother was Lyanna Stark,” she repeated and he only nodded. “The same Lyanna Stark who… who ran away with…”

“With Rhaegar Targaryen,” Jon said softly. “They got married, Dany. So you see, it _was_ a flutter. You didn’t l—”

“Ah-nah-nah! Don’t jinx it!” She pressed her fingers to his lips. She furrowed her brows and then her face relaxed into smacked disbelief. “He… that was what he was trying to tell me!” She smiled, rushing to look for a robe.

“Who was trying to tell you what?” Jon asked. This conversation was too confusing for his tastes.

But Dany didn’t care to answer, she only rooted about for a moment, cried in triumph, and carelessly threw the robe around herself, rushing to the door. There was a flutter of hope in her heart now, small and growing stronger. She couldn’t even question the fantastical revelation, the seeming impossibility of it. She could only hope. Opening the door, she snorted.

“Of course. You’re a Kingsguard.”

Arthur frowned at her state of dress. “Good morning to you too, Your Grace. I see you two have been catching up.”

“I need you to send for the Archmaester. And the best midwife you can find us.”

“Right away, my queen,” Arthur said with a smile. He turned to Grey Worm, standing next to him, and the soldier nodded, hitting his staff on the ground twice. One of the guards stationed at the end of the corridor did the same right before coming over. Once he reached them, they could see another man taking his post. Obviously, the chain of replacement would continue. “Well, that is certainly efficient.” With his mind at ease, the knight left to fulfil his order.

Dany closed the door again and went to the chest of drawers in a corner. “I suppose Father lied to hide you from Robert. Though…” She shook her head. She had more pressing questions. Besides, this revelation meant her baby was safe. How could she feel anything other than pure joy? “So, you are my nephew?”

“Does it… does it repulse you?”

She gave him a patronising look. “We’re Targaryens, Jon. An avuncular wedding is very tame for us. Besides, if the Seven Kingdoms frowned upon avuncular pairings, half the nobility would fall.” She snorted. “You know… when we were little, before… before the two of us were allowed to be in the same room, let alone wish each other good morning, when the Northern lords were belittling me for my father, I used to dream. Or daydream, however you want to put it. I would dream that the Usurper had lost, that Rhaegar had emerged victorious from the Trident, that he had returned to King’s Landing and snuffed out the Rebellion. So I would be a proper princess growing up in the Red Keep, as I should be. As Maester Luwin taught us history, I came to…” she blushed. “I came to imagine that, as I grew up a Targaryen princess, I would marry Rhaegar’s son, to strengthen our blood after Rhaegar had had to marry outside the family. I even…” she blushed even deeper and buried her head in the drawer she was going through.

“No, come on, tell me,” he had an easy smile, so she was at least convinced he wasn’t mad at her daydreams of a different life.

“Well, I made a drawing. Of me and ‘Aegon’. Of course, it was foolish and I threw it into the fireplace that same night, lest Lady Catelyn find it. But don’t worry, all my dreams about Aegon Targaryen vanished once I got to know you and saw for myself that you were not an evil and greedy monster.”

“Well, I hope not,” he chuckled.

“What?”

“My mother, she… she named me. My f— Ned Stark renamed me, but my ‘real’ name is Aegon Targaryen,” he revealed and she gasped in shock. “So I do hope you still want to be married to Aegon Targaryen.”

“Silly,” she said, crossing the space to him and melting into his arms. “I don’t care what you name is. I am and I want to forever be married to you.” Then she looked at him, contemplating. “You seem oddly accepting about this.”

He heaved a sigh, content to wrap his arms around her. The rest of the world could explode as long as he had her and the children, far as he was concerned right now. “It’s over a moon from Volantis to here. And nothing to do aboard that ship but think.”

“Why did you stop in New Ghis? That must have delayed you greatly! It took me a few days shorter than a moon to get here.”

“Too many mouths, not enough to feed them,” Jon shrugged.

Dany frowned. “You couldn’t find enough supplies in Volantis? It’s one of the biggest cities in Essos!”

“I know. But it seems your ships and the Dothraki took a lot of their stores, and another sellsword company also stopped by between you leaving and me arriving. The merchants there were less than pleased to part with their stores until new shipments came, and that would take nearly the same time as stopping in New Ghis. So I… I couldn’t take waiting in Volantis, I had to keep going. It was… it was Kinvara who did the magic that allowed me to talk with my mother, so I was not in a great state of mind there. But I’m… I’m calmer now.”

“Not enough not to trip over yourself to decide how you’re going to call him,” she said softly and he didn’t need to think too hard to guess who. “He is and always will be your father, Jon. _Our_ father. He raised us both, he protected us both, even knowing the danger of doing so.”

“He lied to me. I can’t…” He exhaled. “I’m not a green boy incapable of understanding the gravity of this secret, Dany. I’m a man! I’m twenty years old, I’m lord of a castle, I’m married, and we have three children. I can’t…” Jon looked away. “I can’t hate him. I don’t think I ever could. But I can’t help but feel betrayed.”

“I see… but… you know Father wasn’t the only one who knew about this, right? Arthur knew, Ashara, Uncle Benjen, and we can count Aunt Ayla out, because she said she had promised not to tell. But my point is…”

“Arthur already got his earful.” Jon smiled. “And trust me, he was not happy about it. But… he said it and it makes sense. My mother gave my custody to him. She asked him to protect me, so, as my guardian, it was his decision when to tell me.”

“I’m not telling you how to feel, Jon, there is no right or wrong when it comes to feelings. But Ned Stark is our father, he would give his life for any of us. He loves us as he loves Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Cregan, Serena, or Dyanna. If he wronged you — and he did — maybe he was trying to protect you. Or maybe he was just scared of losing you.”

A knock on the door interrupted their moment.

“Finally ready to hear me, Your Grace?” the Archmaester asked, a wide smile on his face.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tywin Lannister was not a man who liked or even tolerated stupidity. He was also not a man to take an insult and do nothing. However _problematic_ Tyrion was, he was still a Lannister. And Jaime… well, Catelyn Tully had obviously been begging for retaliation. How dare she take by force two sons of Casterly Rock without cause? Had she never heard about the Reynes and Tarbecks? Well, her stupidity would cost her dearly, he would make sure of it.

He had promptly sent half his forces, under Kevan’s command, to lay a siege to Riverrun while he continued on to King’s Landing. They needed to secure the capital now more than ever. Besides, even if Catelyn was brainless — and he now had to commend Ned Stark in getting rid of such a liability — he doubted Hoster Tully would be stupid enough to buy into her fight. No reasonable person would declare war on House Lannister for the whims of a mad woman, much less the lord of a divided kingdom like the Riverlands. They had no natural defences and no unity to face that conflict.

This morning, however, his squire had brought him news that Gregor Clegane had just arrived at their camp and was being tended to by the maester, but he had requested an audience. Tywin had huffed, impatient, and told the boy to fetch the knight immediately. But he was now slightly worried. The Mountain was supposed to be in King’s Landing guarding Cersei and making sure she took the throne in Tommen’s name. And his scouts had already brought the joyous news of Robert’s death, so what was Ser Gregor doing in the Riverlands and wounded?

Tywin hid it well, but his concern only grew when the knight limped into the tent. _Limped_. What great group of enemies had he faced that had been able to injure him? The entirety of his lower right leg was wrapped in a bandage, so however he had gotten hurt, it was a big wound.

“The damned wolf,” Clegane said, or better yet grunted out. “He came and attacked me.”

But Tywin was not stupid. Ned Stark wouldn’t have sent his beast off randomly.

“And what did you do to provoke the animal?”

“Queen Cersei said to take Lady Stark and the girl to the Red Keep. The Stark guards fought back. The women ran. I went after them. Then the wolf came. I knew Lord Stark or the King would come for me, so I left the city.”

“The King?” Tywin was confused. “Robert has been dead for over a fortnight!”

“He was alive when I left.”

“And you left my daughter alone in the capital when I gave you clear orders to stay and guard her as she took the throne. Are you deaf or has all the fighting mucked your head?”

“The Queen said to take the lady and the daughter after she got news Ser Jaime was captured. She said it would make Lord Stark work faster to get Ser Jaime back.”

“That was near a moon ago! And it does not answer the question as to why you decided you were allowed to contradict my orders and leave the city when I told you to stay there!”

“The wolf attacked me and the other red cloaks hurt Lord Stark. The King gave orders to keep the Queen locked up in the Maidenvault. I knew they’d come for me next. So I thought—”

“Your job is to do what you’re told, not to think. You left the Queen alone and unprotected in the capital.”

“Lord Stafford—”

“Do I hear you contradicting me?” Tywin asked in a low tone and the knight looked down. “I thought not. So, after you committed the stupidity of leaving the place I told you to be at, where did you go? Where were you all this time?”

“Thought you’d be going to Riverrun, my lord. Was going up the Kingsroad when I heard you’re here. So I came back.”

Tywin took a moment to think. Robert had been dead for a fortnight and the Starks had fled the capital on the day after. However, Cersei had tried to take Lady Stark and the daughter and apparently attacked them in the streets in broad daylight. She obviously couldn’t be left alone. If she had done that when Robert was alive, when Ned Stark was Hand of the King, and without trying to attempt to have Lord Stark fix it… the Northerners would not take the insult. Whatever had led them to leave the capital instead of trying to persuade the Court in their favour, they would retaliate. Especially if Cersei had managed to hurt any of them.

He had to go to King’s Landing now. His daughter apparently could not be trusted to follow simple instructions: get Robert out of the way, hold the throne. He gave orders to prepare a company of a hundred mounted men — Tywin would lead them faster to the capital while the rest of the army marched down the Goldroad. He had only just dismissed his war council when a messenger was escorted in. Tywin rolled his eyes as everyone sat back down.

“I come from Rosby, milord,” the boy said. “The maester said he had gotten this message for you, but I needed delivering in person.”

Tywin took the raven scroll and dismissed him. After he read it, he punched the table. The lords around it gulped, knowing that to make him lose control it had to be serious.

“The fleet I had sent to get King Tommen from Dragonstone managed to get past Stannis Baratheon, but was taken down by an unidentified fleet. The maester sent this raven probably just before he died.”

There was a long silence in the tent.

“A mad woman kidnapped my sons and now an unknown foe took Dragonstone with both my grandchildren inside — one of whom is our King.”

“Perhaps the North rose in rebellion in favour of—”

“Not impossible, but improbable,” Tywin said, though he didn’t like it. “Daenerys Targaryen was also kidnapped and taken to Essos. The Northerners wouldn’t rise in rebellion in her name before she was back. Besides, as barbarian as they are, they wouldn’t have come unnamed. They’d be bolstering their damned wolf flags. And Ned Stark would never _attack_ Stannis, he was more likely to join him.”

“What are we going to do, my lord?”

“We are going to go to war,” Tywin said. At least their army was already prepared and in the field. “Get my company doubled to two hundred and make sure to send scouts out as you march. I leave for the capital in the morning.”

He stood up and stomped out.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Kevan nearly laughed when the drawbridge lowered and the man walked out of Riverrun. He had a stocky build and the Tully’s signature auburn hair and deep blue eyes. His cloak was blue-and-red and there was a trout marked in his armour upon his chest. But for all he tried to look imposing, he was clearly a green boy, despite his age.

“Lord Kevan,” the Tully man greeted.

“You are not Lord Tully, though I can see you are family,” was all Kevan said.

“I am Lord Edmure, his son and heir. My father is unavailable, but I speak in his name.”

“Very well,” Kevan said, thinking that the rumours of Hoster Tully’s illness were clearly true. “You know why we are here, surely?”

“As a matter of fact, Lord Kevan, I do not. House Tully bestowed no offences and yet House Lannister lays a siege on our castle. This is a most uncomfortable situation, my lord.”

“The Lady Catelyn…”

“My sister cut all ties with House Tully on the day she joined the sept, Lord Kevan. Whatever she has done, she did without the support, knowledge, or approval from House Tully.”

“She took Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime Lannister. That was a declaration of war against Casterly Rock, Lord Edmure.”

“As I said, my sister no longer acts for House Tully. Your presence here violates the King’s peace when House Tully has done you no offence.”

“King Tommen wants his uncles back, Lord Edmure. You can see the situation we are in, surely.”

Edmure swallowed, but stomped down his personal feelings. “And as I said, Septa Catelyn did not act with the approval or protection of House Tully. She has not contacted us ever since she left for the sept and the last time I saw her was at my nephew’s wedding. She did not write or send a messenger to say she intended to act against House Lannister nor that she already had. Wherever she took Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime, it was not here, and we don’t know where.”

Kevan clenched his jaw. The man was clearly being truthful: he was timorous but still strong, so he was telling no lie. Because Lord Edmure was very obviously not a proficient liar — the sweat rolling down the side of his face was a clear sign that he didn’t have what it took to sustain a lie that big.

“Very well. I shall report your declarations, Lord Edmure. But be prepared to travel to the capital to swear allegiance to King Tommen.”

“I will be ready to make the journey as soon as my castle and lands are secure.”

Kevan inclined his head in goodbye, understanding all too well the implication: so long as the Lannister army kept the siege, the heir to Riverrun would stay inside. But he needed to send a messenger to Tywin. Attacking Riverrun would mean one more argument the Starks — and by extension Daenerys Targaryen — had against them, especially when House Tully had denied Catelyn. So he turned his horse and went back to his tent, thinking on how to pen down his thoughts.

Edmure was nearly shaking once the drawbridge lifted and the castle was once more secure against the invaders. Denying his sister had been painful and left an acrid taste in his mouth, but he had to agree with the Maester and his bannermen inside: to support Catelyn would mean war and, given their too uneasy relationship with House Stark, Riverrun was likely to be swamped by the Lannister forces. The Riverlands were too fractured, too divided to stand together as a kingdom. Besides, half the lords had already written denying their support to Catelyn in this matter.

“A difficult choice, my lord, but a necessary one,” Patrek Mallister said.

Edmure took a deep breath. “I know. King Robert’s death made us vulnerable and the Lannisters got here too fast for us to mount a defence,” he repeated for the hundredth time, to convince himself again.

‘ _You have a duty to the Riverlands_ ’, his father had said, ‘ _let your sister play her games at the expense of her own life, we cannot afford to let her threaten ours. Or our people_ ’.

And still, the taste of betrayal didn’t leave him.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Aegon looked around the room, trying to find that feeling of recognition, but there was none to be felt.

“You were but a babe when you lived here, Aegon,” Jon Connington pointed out. “This room isn’t even a nursery anymore. There is nothing for you to remember.”

“Of course, Father,” he agreed though he wasn’t pleased with it. “What about our old things? What do you reckon the Usurper’s brother did with them?”

“Threw them away or stored them out of view.” Connington shrugged. “I sent some of the old servants, from your father’s time, to look in the storage rooms.”

“There are still servants from my father’s time? And they served Stannis Baratheon?”

“Servants serve whoever pays them, Aegon,” Connington countered. “They worry about eating and feeding their children, not which lord owns the castle.”

Aegon huffed. “Some loyalty that is!”

“You can have loyalty from your soldiers, guards, and personal attendants. But don’t expect the kitchen maid to die for House Targaryen.”

The King rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else. “What about gold? We must have gold if we aim to wage a war. Where is the vault?”

Connington exhaled a deep breath. “Dragonstone is not the richest of islands. It always relied heavily on money from the Treasury. Since the castle belonged to the Royal family, that had never been an issue. But after Robert usurped the throne and bestowed Dragonstone upon his brother, the island couldn’t draw from the Treasury anymore. I don’t know what business Stannis led for the last twenty years, but I wouldn’t expect a bursting vault.”

“That was a senseless thing to do, to give his middle brother a poor castle and let the little one have the family’s ancestral seat, richer and more powerful,” Aegon pointed out.

“Perhaps Robert hated Rhaegar too much to allow for another ‘Prince of Dragonstone’,” Connington deduced. “As he was childless at the time, naming him _Lord_ of Dragonstone officially named him his heir.” Aegon hummed but didn’t comment. “There is a… a second vault.”

“Is it customary for castles to have multiple vaults?”

“For storing riches and gold? No, not really. Too complicated to keep it safe and, besides, if the enemy got as far as the vaults, he likely had already taken the castle. But this one… Rhaegar never spoke much of it. Actually, he only mentioned it once, in passing, and I don’t think he meant to. He said only a Targaryen may open the door and see its contents, that it held wonders from Valyria and family heirlooms. And that is all I know of it.”

“Where is it?”

Jon only shook his head. “Rhaegar never said and I never asked.” He huffed, clearly annoyed. “He might have told Arthur, or Arthur might have known because he escorted him there, but I never knew.”

Aegon bit back a smile. He always found hilarious how his father was so jealous of his birth father’s friendship with the Kingsguard. “Ser Arthur Dayne is dead. And a pity, because I’m certain he would have been a loyal man.”

“I’m a loyal man!”

“You are my father. Ser Arthur would have been a Kingsguard. It is impossible to compare the two.” He bit back another smile when he saw how pleased Jon was with the words. “Now that we are settled in, Father, with the messenger to my uncle already sent, we must see to these matters. Until my aunt is back in Westeros, it is useless to even contemplate an alliance with the North. We must get the other kingdoms to our side as soon as possible.”

Jon smiled. “Aegon Targaryen is in Dragonstone, planning his conquest of Westeros. We should go to the Chamber of the Painted Table.”

Aegon smiled back and they left his old nursery room behind. It didn’t matter, anyway. He was lord of the castle now, he belonged in the lord’s chambers.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany have a long and difficult conversation and a decision is reached. In Dorne, Doran Martell has a surprise and, in the Reach, the Queen of Thorns is plotting.

Dany was giddy, light, and happier than she had been in a long, long time.

“I would have told you all of this weeks ago if you had allowed me, Your Grace,” Marwyn said with censoring eyes.

“It’s not the time for that now,” Jon cut in. “We know this is not your area of expertise, Archmaester, but can you confirm that Lady Starling is with child?”

“The baby, because I’m quite sure _there is_ a baby, is not big enough to be felt from the outside yet. We are left to symptoms, then. Have you felt sick again, Your Grace?”

“Sick? But you’ve never felt sick before!” Jon said. “Rather, Aunt Ayla always said it was good that you were actually hungrier!”

“Well, apparently the open sea was a factor this time,” Dany said and then turned to the Archmaester. “No. But I haven’t felt sick ever since Volantis. Missandei gave me the tincture every morning until… and since then I didn’t feel anything.”

“Well, you should be far enough along for the morning sickness to have gone away, given the time since we left the Midnight Fortress. And your breasts? Any tenderness?”

“They are bigger.”

“Jon!” Dany exclaimed.

“What? You’re my wife, why wouldn’t I have noticed that your breasts are different?”

The Archmaester only laughed. “Most lords would ask you _how_ would you have noticed such a thing, my king, but I think you are the one who has the right of it.” Jon blushed, uncomfortable again at the title, and looked away. Dany frowned, but decided to let it go for now. “And though we can’t feel it from the outside…”

“There were a few flutters this morning,” Dany informed. “But what if… I mean, it would be a big coincidence, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, if you will forgive me the indiscretion, my queen, but all the _activity_ might have… jolted the baby into moving. You might have been too tired to feel it overnight, or confused it with another sensation, from what I hear, but there was nothing to disguise it this morning.”

Dany blushed now, taking her hand to the still small bump. “It has been weeks since Viserys… my belly hasn’t grown bigger.”

There was a knock and Arthur escorted a Dothraki woman and Missandei inside. The woman was middle-aged, perhaps even older, because though she lacked wrinkles, her jet-black hair was sprinkled with grey.

“This is Mazzia, Your Grace,” Missandei introduced. “She is a midwife. But she doesn’t speak the Common Tongue.”

“Would you translate for the King, Missandei,” Dany asked and then greeted the woman. She asked basically the same questions as the Archmaester. When Dany posed her last question again, the woman merely waved her hand.

“Now the men go out,” Mazzia said. “I’ll examine you, Khaleesi.”

Arthur and the Archmaester left quickly, but Jon only crossed his arms, showing he was staying right where he was.

“A man who isn’t afraid of women’s concerns,” the Dothraki woman said, chuckling. “You chose your Khal well, Khaleesi.”

Dany only smiled as she laid back on the bed. Missandei didn’t bother translating the last sentence, but Jon didn’t ask, only going to the other side and sitting next to Dany. She clutched his hand in hers strongly as the midwife touched her belly.

“Mazzia!” Irri greeted with a smile as she came into the room.

“So that’s where disappeared to, girl, across the sea,” the midwife said with a fond smile, though she didn’t stop her examination.

“She was the best midwife in our khalasar, Your Graces,” Irri informed in the Common Tongue, setting the tray she carried on the bedside table.

Dany smiled as the smell from the tea spread. “Ginger root?”

“With peppermint,” Irri confirmed. “Lady Crystark wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I didn’t serve it to you.”

“There is certainly a baby in there,” Mazzia finally said. “Your belly is too firm, but it’s curved, so it’s not muscle. As for why it hasn’t grown in weeks, sometimes that happens. If the baby is lower and in the back of the womb, it takes longer to grow. I wouldn’t fret, Khaleesi. If you feel the quickening, it’s because there’s movement in there.”

Dany let hope fill her heart for the first time in weeks. “Thank you.”

“And you are certain Lady—” Jon cleared his throat, “that the Queen and the baby are both well?”

“I hope the Khaleesi would tell us if she wasn’t well,” Mazzia replied after Missandei translated. “As for the baby, if the belly is firm and there is no blood, there is no reason not to think everything is well.”

Dany thanked everyone and dismissed them. She sat up against the pillows and reached for the cup, enjoying the soothing taste even if the weather wasn’t conducive to teas.

“You know that there is even less reason now to sit back waiting for the Lannisters to come bother us, don’t you?” she asked.

Jon exhaled, standing up and crossing the room, looking out the window to the clear blue sky. “I don’t want it, Dany. I just… I hate politics, the eternal bickering of lords, appeasing one and soothing the other, backstabbing… I just want to go home. Go home and be left alone with you, Lya, Addam, and Aemon. And the little one, now! Is that too much to ask?”

“You know it is. Tywin Lannister will never leave us in peace, not while our very existence threatens the crown on his grandson’s head.” She huffed. “I grew up thinking I was the rightful heir, the last Targaryen. Robert Baratheon betrothed us in order to shame me and weaken my claim. He had no idea that he was actually making us stronger.”

“I’ve thought about that… why F— why Lord Stark allowed it while knowing the truth.”

Dany sighed as he stumbled on the name again. _This will take a while to sort itself_ , she thought. “We’ve seen how the Usurper only does what he wants. Perhaps he made the decision and Father couldn’t refuse it without arising suspicion. He only ever wanted to protect you, Jon.”

“Did he? Then why is he working for Robert Baratheon? Why did he take Sansa, Arya, and Rickon with him, why are Ashara and the children there?” He snorted. “I believe, I _know_ he wants me well, but it seems like he’s putting his friendship with Robert above everything else.”

“I think rather he didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what? That Robert would have me killed if he knew the truth? He does know that, or he wouldn’t have lied about who I am.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dany said, putting the cup away and standing up. “I meant that I believe he didn’t know before, during the Rebellion.”

“If he loved his sister as much as—”

“Jon, think with me, everyone believed Lyanna had been taken.”

He sighed. “Arthur told me she ran away without saying where to.”

“See? No one knew where she was or _how_ she was. She simply vanished. And then your uncle went to King’s Landing and my father did what he did.”

“I’m not defending what your—” He bit his lower lip for a moment and then exhaled. “What my grandfather did. But Uncle Brandon apparently burst into the throne room accusing the Prince of Dragonstone of kidnapping and raping his sister and then saying that Rhaegar could come out and die.”

“Oh. Yes, I see. My father did go overboard, beyond the acceptable, but no monarch would have let Brandon live. Or at least there would have been severe consequences, such as the Night’s Watch.” She took a deep breath. “But we’re changing the subject. The point is that when my father’s raven arrived at the Eyrie, when Father heard about Lord Rickard and Lord Brandon’s deaths and the calling for his own, he still didn’t know where his sister was or what happened to her. If he only learnt about Rhaegar and Lyanna on the day you were born, on the day she died, then he fought the Rebellion to bring justice to his family, protect himself from a mad king, and try to find his sister. Once he found out the truth, Robert already had the throne, so he had to play along that ‘truth’ if he wanted to protect you.”

“The realm had bled enough.” Jon sighed. “That’s what Arthur said. That the realm had bled enough and people just wanted peace. Robert was a promise of stability, one that was more appealing than more blood and death and war. Robert was a man grown, fully capable of being king — at least in theory —, not a newborn who would need a regent. And if F— Lord Stark claimed the throne in my name, there would be no protecting me if it failed.”

“All he ever did is protect you, Jon,” she whispered, coming closer and cupping his cheeks. “And when I came along, he protected me too, because I was an innocent baby and because I was your family.”

Jon rested his forehead against hers for a long moment, then took a deep breath. “My relationship with him won’t be fixed this easily, Dany,” he said, though she could hear the sorrow in his voice. “I… he still lied. I don’t… I can’t… I think I need to talk to him before I can begin to forgive him.”

“Alright. That is fair, I think.” She smiled for a moment then bit her lower lip, knowing she was going to go down a path Jon hated. “Now we must discuss how to take back our family’s—”

“Not this again, Dany, please,” Jon scoffed, stepping away from her.

“The Iron Throne belongs to House Targaryen. We are the last Targaryens!”

“I don’t want to be king! I just… I just want to go home! Can’t you understand that?”

“Can’t _you_ understand that we don’t have that option? Bury your head in the sand if you wish, never tell anyone that you’re Rhaegar’s trueborn son if that makes you so happy, but it won’t protect us! It won’t protect our family!”

“Tywin Lannister won’t dare turn all the other kingdoms against him for nothing. He won’t dare attack us in our home when we have done nothing.”

“You’re being naïve! Tywin Lannister is as ruthless as they come! Or do I need to remind you what he ordered done to your brother and sister? What he ordered done to Elia Martell?”

Jon recoiled. Aegon and Rhaenys, the siblings he had lost before he was even born. Lost due to the greed and ego of other men. “We don’t need to start this war, Dany. I told you before, if we draw first blood, if we attack first, we are the villains of this tale. Let Tywin say what he wants, let Robert whore his way through the capital. Let them have the Iron Throne and choke on it. I don’t want it.”

Dany snorted. “Well, I’m sorry, but I thought I was allowed a say in our family. Isn’t that what you always say, that you don’t want a decorative wife, you want a partner?”

Jon frowned. “You know I do. And how am I not allowing you a say in the…”

“Because you’re not stopping to hear me! Even when… back when the Martells first proposed an alliance, you’re thinking that _you_ don’t want that—”

“I told you, starting a war would put our family at risk!”

“We are at risk, Jon! We are looking over our shoulders every damn day, waiting for the day Robert will die, the day that his friendship with Father will stop protecting us, the day that the Lannisters will attack us! And maybe… you’re not listening to what _I_ want. You don’t want to be king. But I want to be queen.”

Jon took a step back and they were quiet for a long moment, both of them finally taking the time to consider the words once they were spoken out loud.

“Do you really want to trade the peace of our home for that hellhole they call a capital?” Jon asked.

“I am tired of being afraid,” Dany said, and it was the most vulnerable he had heard her in a while. “You… you only now discovered who you are. And no one knows. If we keep it a secret, no one _will_ know. But I am who I am. I am Daenerys Targaryen, I have always been the Mad King’s daughter. I grew up with a target on my back, knowing that any moment he so desired, Robert Baratheon could call for my head and Father would have no option but to deliver.”

“He wouldn’t have done that!”

“I know that. _Now_. And besides, would he really have refused if the choice was between my life and everyone else’s?”

“He broke faith with Robert after he saw what the Lannisters had done to Elia and the children—”

“Your siblings,” Dany insisted.

“He and Robert made peace after he came back to the capital with my mother’s bones,” Jon continued pretending not to have heard her, “and I can’t help but think that he only did that because he needed to be friends with Robert because of me. There is no way he would have delivered you to be slaughtered when you had no blame. It would be the height of dishonour!”

Dany nodded, knowing he was probably right. Ned Stark would never abide for arbitrary cruelty. “But the point remains that, as a child, I was terrified of that. Then we were married and the Royal family was in Winterfell and I could see that Cersei would do whatever it took to destroy me before I threatened her son’s throne. From that moment on I knew the Lannisters would take me out the moment they could, to remove the threat of a Targaryen restoration. But removing me wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. For so long as Targaryen blood lived, a restoration would be possible. They wouldn’t remove only me, they would take out me and our children.”

“They’d have to go through me,” Jon spoke through clenched teeth.

“And they almost did! Cersei sent assassins to kill me knowing I was pregnant! I almost died on the day Little Addam was born — early I might add! I almost died, our son almost died, because Cersei wanted me dead. So yes, I am tired of being afraid. I am tired of looking over my shoulder, wondering when they’ll attack. I am tired of this sword hanging over my head all the time.”

“Taking the throne will only mean more people will want to kill you!”

“Will it?” Dany insisted. “If we get enough allies—”

“If, Dany! If, if, if! And what if we don’t get enough allies, what if we are betrayed, what if… what if we go to war and we lose and they come for us and our children anyway?”

“Gods, you are infuriating!” Dany groaned. “They _will_ come, Jon! You want to go home and let it all look fine, just like Father did! In the years since the Rebellion, until he went to King’s Landing, that’s all he did, he went home and stayed up there, pretending the realm was fine! Except it wasn’t! Robert was too busy having his fun, his whores, his hunts, his tourneys! He used up all the gold, he drowned the Iron Throne in debt, he raised taxes, he is smothering the smallfolk and not giving them the protection the king is supposed to give them! Bandits and outlaws terrorise the countryside and Robert does nothing. If he dies when Tommen is young, Cersei will be regent and she will be the same or worse. If Tommen takes over… well, we saw what Joffrey was like, who is to say Cersei didn’t raise them to be equally awful? Father realised that, he realised that hiding behind the walls of Winterfell had not been the right thing to do.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, softening and walking closer to him.

“I want to be different, Jon. I want to do in King’s Landing what we did at home, give our smallfolk a decent place to call home. So they can work to sustain this kingdom better. If we have the power to protect them and we just turn our back on them—”

“Don’t go there, Dany,” Jon said almost in a whisper. “Don’t use that argument.”

“The noble Houses play their games and the smallfolk always suffer, Jon, you know that. They are the ones who suffer under higher taxes. The farmer is the one who loses his harvest because an army crosses by, the soldier loses his life in a meaningless war. I want to make sure their lives matter. I want to make sure all women have the privilege I do, that of being a true partner to their husbands, rather than a possession, a trophy. I want to make sure bastards have a place in their families, rather than being ostracised. Can you fault me for that?”

He looked out the window for a few moments.

“I can’t. Of course I can’t. But Dany, what you’re talking about is a dream. It’s impossible. It’s a nice dream, one I deeply wish I could help you in making come true. But it won’t happen.”

“If you keep thinking like that no, it won’t,” she said grumpily. But then she opened a smile. “Besides you’re forgetting who I am. I’m special, Jon. My dreams come true.”

He chuckled. “I know you’re special. But I…”

“Come, I want to show you something,” she said, pulling his hand. “I would’ve shown you yesterday, except I was too damn relieved that you’re alive.”

Jon followed her, though he still felt awkward in the light clothing he was wearing. He knew if he put on his furs he’d likely bake in this heat, but it was a big adjustment. They walked a short distance to another chamber and the Unsullied guarding its door opened it for them.

“You will want to come in as well, Arthur!” Dany said.

She led them through what looked like an odd and stony bedchamber. Except… there weren’t any beds. Only three big slabs of stone with an indentation in the middle, where nests were clearly made.

“Hello, Archmaester, taking notes again?” Dany asked, amused, to which the man only smiled. She picked up the creatures on the table in front of the old man.

“Dany, what the…” Jon started but then he lost his voice and his chin fell open. “Are those…?”

She only smiled, her new sons perching up on her arms and shoulders, clearly unhappy to have spent so long apart.

“These are Balerion, Rhaegal, and Rhaelion.”

Jon chuckled, half amazed half amused. “You really are special.” He looked at the dragons. “You can make impossible things happen.”

She smiled. “Does that mean…”

He shook his head and just came closer. Arthur shook his head in warning from behind Jon and Dany stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Rhaegal, the emerald dragon, looked up with interest once Jon was close enough. He cawed and lifted his head towards the man, trying to reach him. Jon extended his hand, _I’m touching a dragon!_ His brain could barely process that the stories he read growing up were alive again in front of him, in his wife’s arms.

As Jon touched Rhaegal’s head, they locked eyes, grey and bronze, and Jon felt something shift in the back of his mind. Dany frowned as Jon’s eyes turned Ghost’s ruby red for a quick moment, before fading away to their normal grey.

“Did you… Did you just warg?” she asked.

“No,” Jon replied, still with his eyes locked with Rhaegal’s. He went to poke his connection with Ghost anyway, to see what had drawn him closer, and that’s when he felt it. Ghost’s presence, a bond that had only grown stronger in the past five years, was the essence of the direwolf, a creature of snow and ice. Next to it, though, there seemed to be the foundations of a new bond, newly forged and young, but just as magical. This one was fire, a whole inferno waiting to be loose. “I think… I don’t know…”

“You bonded,” Arthur said, amazed, looking at man and dragon interacting. “A dragon will choose one rider and ride with him alone for the rest of his days, Rhaegar told me. Likewise, a rider can only bond with one dragon. Once chosen, only death can break the bond. Because you’re already a warg, because you and Ghost are already bonded, because you know how to control the connection, that’s why you felt it so easily.”

“But I thought…” Jon frowned. “I thought warging came from the North, from the Children of the Forest.”

“If Targaryens — if the Valyrians as a whole — only bonded with their dragons, then they wouldn’t have called it warging,” Arthur said. “A warg can merge his mind to a wolf, a skinchanger much more. It’s different, but similar.”

Jon poked that new bond and felt curiosity surging through. The bond was too new, though, and a dragon was no tame creature. “I can sense him,” Jon said with a small smile. “But it’s too weak yet.”

“You’ll have to work on it,” Dany said. “And it seems it’s time for _me_ to learn it.”

“Did you bond with them?” Jon asked, finally looking up from Rhaegal. The dragon wasn’t happy.

“I can feel something,” she replied.

As they kept on talking, Marwyn only watched the new development, his mind bouncing news ideas and theories around. Oh, how he wished he could speak with Aemon, right now! But he knew one of the things the old Targaryen maester would say: balance. Nature always seeks balance.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

That night, as they sat on the large pillows to the corner of their chambers — not like they needed a fireplace — Jon listened to Dany as she recounted what she had been through since they were separated. How she had been locked up in the ship’s cabin until Volantis, how she had to be taken to the Red Temple because she had been so sick and how she got her freedom afterwards. And he was amazed by her. His fierce, warrior wife, refusing to accept an injustice and fighting back for justice.

“And then… once we met for parley, that’s when I realised Viserys was past saving,” Dany said, and there was sorrow in her voice now. “I could see the madness in him, Jon. It was… and then he started to gloat, saying I should be thankful because you and the children were hostages against me rising for the throne and he had done me the great favour of removing their hold on me.”

Jon clenched his jaw, conjuring several painful ways he would have murdered his uncle in his mind.

“Then he gave me the potion,” she went on. “Once I began to feel the cramps… he went gloating again, saying this would remove ‘the bastard’ and…”

“Our children are not bastards!” Jon exclaimed hotly. “We are married in front of gods and men, our children—”

“I know that,” Dany soothed him. She knew it was a touchy point. “But I told you, my brother was mad. He told me what the potion did, said he removed the ‘complication’ so I would realise my purpose was to provide heirs to House Targaryen.”

Jon snorted. “Well his purpose in life was to be a cunt,” he sneered. Then he exhaled, thinking about his connection to Rhaegal. “Besides, you have provided heirs to House Targaryen, it’s just that’s not your purpose, that’s not all that you are.”

She bit back a wide smile — tough a curve of lips escaped — that he was acknowledging his blood now. She knew he was still struggling with it, so she decided she wouldn’t push. For now.

“Anyway, he… he told me he had had you, Lya, Addam, and Aemon murdered, that he had killed out baby. So I… I told the guards to take his out and hold him down. I told him I would deliver Northern justice to him. Then I sentenced him to death.”

“I’m sorry, Dany,” Jon said softly. “I know… gods, that must have been terrible.”

She took a deep breath, getting ready to confess her dark secrets. “It wasn’t. He was my brother…”

“He gloated to have murdered our children, Dany. Our _babies_! And for his own selfish reasons. What you did was not kinslaying. You didn’t kill him for vanity or for greed or for ego. He confessed to his crimes — crimes that didn’t exist, but he confessed to them. And he did think he was forcing you to miscarry, it was just damned luck that he chose a spell that wouldn’t work. Because of a truth he had no idea about. You delivered justice.”

“I didn’t think the fire would kill him. I thought he would survive the flames, like I do, like Uncle Aemon does. I stopped Drogo from killing Viserys saying I would swing the sword.”

“It would still have been justice, Dany. It’s what…” he took a deep breath. “It’s what Father would have done.”

She smiled weakly. “Decided on that, did you?”

“I’m angry at him and we will have to have a long talk next time we are in the same room. But, as you said, all he ever did was protect and love us. So, yes, I have decided on that. He will always be my father.”

“Good.” She buried her head on his neck. “His death brought me pleasure, Jon,” she confessed, her voice muffled. “Just like Thorne’s. What if I am—”

“They were both traitors who wronged us greatly, Dany.” Jon pulled her head back softly, forcing her to look at him. “We are only human, as Uncle Aemon would say, so we can’t help but feel this satisfaction when wrongs against us were avenged. What we must never lose is the difference between vengeance and justice. What you did — both to Thorne and to Viserys — was justice. They committed and confessed to their crimes and you followed the law. That is nothing to be ashamed of.”

She nodded, reassured, and Jon smiled a bit.

“You can make impossible things happen, you know. And you do have the amazing power of getting through ‘my thick head’, as Arthur would put it.”

“Perhaps I only know you too well.” She smiled back.

“Perks of loving each other since we were children, I think.”

He chuckled and they kissed softly for a moment.

“I was afraid,” he confessed once they pulled back. “After growing up like I did, after being belittled like I was, I was finally in a nice position. I was a respected lord, I had a beautiful and loving wife and three little rascals to give us wrinkles of worry. Our life was good and comfortable and it looked safe. I was afraid to ruin that. I was afraid of losing you or the children and being miserable again. Of having nothing again. That is why I have been fighting it so hard. But in doing so, I failed to see what was around me. I know the threat the Lannisters present, I simply wanted to believe it wasn’t there. And once I found out the truth… I just wanted that peace of being home, I didn’t want to be responsible for millions of people across Seven Kingdoms. But that was selfish of me.”

Jon looked away for a moment, taking a pause to gather his thoughts.

“Uncle Aemon once told me that love is the death of duty and the bane of honour,” he went on and Dany felt her heart fail a beat. That was not a nice sentence to come after telling her he loved her and their children. “And I let my love for our life blind me. Blind me to my duty. I was born the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, so it is my duty to protect the people of the Seven Kingdoms. Everything you said was right. The smallfolk, _our_ _people_ , are suffering because of Robert’s selfishness and neglect. The Lannisters won’t improve that.”

“We have to stop this, Jon. This ridiculous game of politics. The backstabbing, the plotting, the power-grabbing. The high lords have fun and the people suffer. Targaryen, Stark, Lannister, Baratheon, they are just spokes on a wheel.”

“Stopping the wheel won’t be easy, Dany.”

“ _Stopping_ it isn’t enough, Jon. I want to _break_ the wheel. I want to destroy this corrupt system. This system that punishes children for the sins of their parents. I want to make people capable of rising because they worked that hard, rather than only because they had it all handed to them as inheritance.”

“I like that idea,” Jon smiled. “Rewarding people for their own merit, rather than their blood.”

“As you said, it’s your birthright,” she could barely keep the spark of envy from her voice. “It’s your duty.”

“There is just one problem with that idea,” he said and she frowned. “It’s _your_ dream, Dany. You’re the one who can make impossible things happen. Besides, you’ve taken this city. You are Queen of Meereen in your own right. How could I ever ask you to be a mere consort?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you just spoke of not caring only about blood and inheritance. I’m saying that I want a partner, not a wife to show as a trophy. I’m saying I can’t do this without you, Dany. This endless… politicking. That’s not me. I’m saying that we are stronger together. We will fight together for _our_ family, so let’s win together.”

She smiled widely. “That might be too revolutionary for Westeros.”

He chuckled. “We won’t know until we’ve tried. My queen.”

“My king.” She laughed, giggling when he pulled her closer, moaning when he showed her how perfect they were as partners.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Doran Martell was tired. Years ago, he had retired to the Water Gardens, leaving the ruling of Dorne in the hands of his younger brother and wilful daughter, because he was tired of it and he refused to let his lords and his enemies see the affliction that befell him.

But Arianne, like Oberyn, was too spirited and hot-headed. They had ambushed him with plans to support Daenerys Targaryen, rather than her brother, and Doran had been furious that Oberyn was in support of it. They had a pact, a signed betrothal between Arianne and Viserys Targaryen, so she would become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She had laughed at it, scoffed actually, saying she would never enjoy being a consort, something her father would know if he had bothered to spend any time with his daughter. It had been a fierce jab to his heart.

But Oberyn had countered that no one had heard from Viserys in years. Ser Willem Darry had died five years after the betrothal was signed, when Viserys was still a child, and the boy had been loose in Essos since then. There was rumour of him in Pentos, then in Volantis, and then nothing more. A man alone, Oberyn had reasoned, with no army to support him. Daenerys had allies, she already counted with the North. Doran had had no counterargument and, as such, had allowed them to start preparing their people for a possible alliance with Daenerys.

He had been happy, very pleased indeed, when Oberyn had returned from the North with news that Ashara and Arthur were alive. He had always liked them, though Doran had been already too old to join them and his siblings as they grew up playing in the Water Gardens. But he had known how close Elia and Ashara had been, the best of friends, sisters in all but blood, Elia would say, so he was pleased with the news. One more person who would fight to honour his sister.

But, three weeks ago, too much had changed. Again. Ashara had brought the news of the Lannister coup and there would obviously be war now. He was glad Oberyn had said there would be no deals with the Targaryens as long as they didn’t honour Elia. And anger had burned within him when his brother confessed the contents of Elia’s last letter to him, the truth about Rhaegar and the wolf girl and their son.

But Doran didn’t have Oberyn’s hot temper. Refusing the Targaryens would only complicate Dorne, since it was more than likely that Daenerys and Jon would get the necessary support against the Lannisters. And it was true that Dorne had never been conquered, but he wanted no conflict at his borders.

So, after Oberyn had come to the Water Gardens and passed along Ashara’s news from the capital, Doran had decided a return to Sunspear was necessary. Now was not the moment to hide from curious eyes, it was time to show them that, illness or no illness, he still held Dorne in his hands. And so here he was. Areo escorted the man inside, and he knelt in front of Doran’s chair.

“My captain tells me you bring me joyful news,” the Prince of Dorne said. “Rise and share them with me.”

“I merely carry a letter, Your Grace,” the messenger said. “I was asked to give it to you so you may read for yourself.”

He extended the envelope and Doran took it with a raised brow, which turned to a frown when he turned it over and saw the three headed dragon sigil.

 

_My dear uncle,_

 

The letter started and Doran felt his heart fail a beat. There were only two people who would have called him uncle and bear the dragon sigil, and they were both dead.

 

_I can only imagine how shocking this will be to you. But I hope it will also be joyful. That night in King’s Landing, that terrible night of death and destruction, I was smuggled out of the castle by loyalists, because my lady mother did not have the time to save us all. She stayed behind to go for Rhaenys, but I escaped._

 

“This can’t be…” he whispered, shocked. “Where is he?!” he demanded, almost standing in his eagerness.

“If you will forgive me, Your Grace, I bid you to finish the letter.”

Doran returned to it with a racing heart.

 

_I was then taken to Essos, where I grew up in hiding. About a year after that, the men who saved me tracked down Lord Jon Connington, who was a good and loyal friend of my father, and who allowed his name to be tarnished in order to raise me in secrecy. If I stand here today, Uncle, it is due to the selflessness of a good man, who cared more about loyalty than his pride._

_But now I am a man grown. I have decided it was time to return west and claim my birthright. With the support of Lord Connington, my Hand, and the Golden Company, I have taken the island of Dragonstone. But Dragonstone is only part of what is owed me. The Iron Throne is mine by rights and I will take it with Fire & Blood if I must._

_Your support would be invaluable Uncle, for more than the men you can lend to my cause, but because of the blood and bond that unites us. I will make the Lannisters and the Usurper pay for what they did to my lady mother and sister._

_Come and meet me, Uncle, so we can rejoice in a family reunion. Come and meet me Uncle, so we can, together, avenge those who were taken from us, so we can honour their memories and lay them to rest with pride. I cannot wait to meet you and the rest of my family._

_Love,_

_Aegon of the House Targaryen, the Sixth of My Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm_

 

Doran was breathing hard by the time he finished the letter, his mind a whirlwind.

“Areo, see to it that the man has food and a bed. You will wait until I have composed a response. And send for Prince Oberyn and Princess Arianne.”

There was too much to discuss, Doran thought.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Olenna pursed her lips, contemplating the slew of information that had been delivered to her over the past week. First, Catelyn Tully’s idiotic — or perhaps even suicidal — idea to take Tyrion and Jaime Lannister “to face justice”. Tywin would never let it stand. He would have gone to war for Tyrion alone, simply because he had to show House Lannister would never bow before any other. But for Jaime… oh, for Jaime he would burn Riverrun and every single square inch of the Riverlands to the ground.

Then her spies had brought her the story of what Cersei Lannister had done in the capital, starting a war with House Stark. If before Ned Stark would have stopped his former wife to maintain the peace, now Cersei had unleashed a conflict that would be bloody and long. To attack the Hand of the King so carelessly… well, she obviously hadn’t learnt from her father.

And now this. She had received the news from the capital first, that Robert was dead, Tommen was King, and the Starks were on the run. But then Margaery had written, giving as much detail as she could in a raven scroll, saying the North would march south.

They were obviously at the tipping point now, no longer standing at a stalemate. Honestly, what had possessed Cersei to make such an open enemy of the Starks? They had the most allies and they had Daenerys Targaryen. If they would be the bad ones if they started the war without cause, now they were only fighting back. Cersei had invited war to the capital and Olenna was certain Tywin was unaware and furious. Tywin Lannister never attacked someone so openly, so directly. He would never have given Daenerys Targaryen’s biggest supporters cause to rise against them. She snorted, thinking that the Old Lion would put his daughter to bed without supper, like the child she had been acting as.

She was burning with worry about her great-grandson, though. Willas was gone to Essos, safe from Cersei as he stood next to Daenerys Targaryen, but Lady Wynafryd and baby Lucas had been in the capital. There had been no word about it, so she had hoped Wynafryd had escaped the capital with the Starks and her grandfather, a hope Margaery had confirmed in her raven. She had nearly laughed, then. Ned Stark, the most honourable man in the land, and he had betrayed his friend and King by hiding Ashara and Arthur Dayne under Robert’s nose. His beloved, whom he had finally married, and the Sword in the Morning, ready to reclaim his white cloak. It seemed there was some political ingenuity in Lord Stark after all.

“You sent for me, Grandmother?” Garlan asked, coming into her solar.

“Yes, my dear, I did. Your sister just wrote. Wynafryd and Lucas are safe with the Starks, headed to Starfall.”

Garlan let out a breath of relief. “And Willas? Any word from Essos?”

“Not yet, but they don’t have ravens in Essos. Maybe the Starks are communicating through their wolves, who knows, because we shouldn’t know anything past Tyrosh yet, but we know they left Volantis for Meereen.”

“After what Margaery told us about this warging business, I would say it’s not impossible.”

“That’s beside the point,” Olenna said, straightening herself on her chair. “The Lannisters seized the capital and made big enemies of the Starks. When the Starlings come west again, Daenerys will challenge them, there is no other way. Cersei branded Ned Stark a traitor, the North won’t allow for Lannister rule.”

“And given your plot to make Margaery a Stark and how Willas and Uncle Paxter are already supporting Daenerys, one doesn’t need to be smart to know which side of the conflict House Tyrell will join.”

“House Tyrell will stand where it always stood.” Olenna looked out the window to the green fields spread beyond Highgarden. “Your father will want to wait, he will want to make sure it’s the safest course of action.”

“There is no other course of action, Grandmother. We have engineered our position years ago, cemented it with Margaery’s and Willas’ marriages.”

“I know that, Garlan, I’m not a simpleton,” Olenna snapped. “Which is why I need you to start getting the men and the supplies ready. Tywin will know where we stand, so he might send his men here. I don’t think we need worry about Dorne, because it’s unlikely they would ever side with the Lannisters, but we must strengthen that border as well. So, while I convince your father that this is the only logical way, I need you to start putting things in place. Because there are two new variants we hadn’t considered.”

“What?” Garlan asked with a frown.

“Cersei called Ned Stark a traitor because he claimed Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella were not Robert Baratheon’s children. That they’re the Queen’s bastards by Jaime Lannister,” Olenna revealed.

“Oh. Well, they do not have the Baratheon look, they’re pure Lannister. It is not a wild speculation.”

“It’s probably true, but it’s also beyond the point.”

“So Stannis would be the heir. Except Stannis is in Dragonstone with Tommen and Myrcella.” Garlan whistled. “That will be something.”

“It would have been quite the thing to watch, my dear, only Stannis no longer holds Dragonstone.” Olenna pointed to one of the open messages on her desk. “A man calling himself Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Elia, took the island for himself. Stannis is dead.”

“Oh. But I thought Aegon died in the Sack.”

“So we were led to believe. But the rumours from the capital were that the Mountain had bashed in the boy’s skull to a point that his face was unrecognisable. However, the messy remains had fair hair, so when Tywin said it was the boy, no one questioned it.” Olenna drummed her fingers on the desk.

“This will split the Targaryen loyalty, Grandmother.”

“I know that as well, Garlan. But what does this man have now to prove his claim? Purple eyes and fair hair? So has the Velaryon bastard and the few people with Valyrian look that still live in Essos. Daenerys has an unquestionable claim. She _is_ a Targaryen and more, she was raised right here in the Seven Kingdoms, with our values and customs. She already has the North, so she already has half of the realm. Besides, since your sister made this revelation… I’ve had a wild thought.”

Having read Margaery’s raven, Garlan frowned. “You mean Arthur and Ashara Dayne?”

“Yes. Arthur Dayne is a Kingsguard.”

“A renowned one, Grandmother, but what is wild about that?”

“Ashara Dayne is Lady Stark, whom we knew as Ella. So that means her brother, whom we knew as Addam, is actually Arthur Dayne. And where did he go after Court learnt of his ‘existence’ at Lord and Lady Stark’s wedding?”

“To the Blessed Island.” Garlan then chuckled, realisation striking him. “I sparred with Arthur Dayne! He won, but he praised my skill!”

“Yes, yes, yes, Garlan, keep your boyish glory for later. What does he do in the Blessed Island?”

“He is sworn sword to House Starling.” He was still wondering what his grandmother wanted to get at. If the man was a Kingsguard, why wouldn’t he be next to the last Targaryen — well, whom was thought as the last Targaryen anyway.

“Yes, but from what your sister tells us, ‘Addam’ was the personal sword of _Lord_ Starling, not _Lady_ Starling. If Arthur Dayne reappeared and joined the Starling household, why not fulfil his earlier role of Kingsguard? Why not guard Daenerys Targaryen?”

Garlan frowned, deep in thought. “Jon wouldn’t have called Ser Arthur to his side if he had wanted to guard Daenerys,” he said. “It isn’t like him. He would be honoured to have Ser Arthur around, he would delight in sparring with him, but he would allow him to guard Daenerys.”

“Then what is the most lethal of Aerys’ Kingsguard, Rhaegar’s best friend, doing following around Ned Stark’s bastard and not a trueborn Targaryen?”

“Perhaps avoiding suspicion? Rumours that Ashara Dayne was Jon’s mother were widely believed until Lord Stark set Catelyn aside to marry an alleged commoner.”

“It is a thought, my dear.” Olenna smiled. “But while Rhaegar was leading the Targaryen forces to the Trident where was Arthur Dayne?”

Garlan’s frown deepened. “Wasn’t he guarding Lady Lyanna? I mean, the story was that Lord Stark had killed him to rescue his sister.”

“Exactly! I had never given it any thought, I doubt anyone has. But why would Rhaegar have left three Kingsguards to protect a woman he had kidnapped and raped? And in the middle of a war, no less. Why would these three Kingsguards stand against the brother who came for her when House Targaryen had already fallen? And if Lyanna died in Lord Stark’s arms, what killed her? Because she had already outlived Rhaegar and the supposed abuse he had forced on her. So how did she die?”

“Well… Perhaps… everyone talks about how Prince Rhaegar had been infatuated with Lady Lyanna in Harrenhall. Perhaps he intended to marry her once the war was over.”

“Or perhaps he already had,” Olenna said.

“I see we arrived at your wild thought, Grandmother. I still don’t see why Rhaegar having already married Lyanna makes any difference if she died.”

“To her, it made very little, Garlan. But did she die of sadness? And what a coincidence, that her sadness overtook her as her brother arrived to bring her home.”

“It still doesn’t explain what you were talking about Arthur Dayne just now, Grandmother.”

“Where did Eddard Stark get his bastard? Who is his mother? Questions no one cared to ask. Oh, there were rumours aplenty, as you said, that the mother was Lady Ashara, that she had killed herself because the man she loved had killed her brother and taken her son or, after the wedding, everyone was certain the mother was ‘Ella’. But because he said the boy was his, no one questioned him outright and that was all there was to it. However, it was also widely rumoured the immense fight Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon got into over the slaughter of Rhaegar’s children. It was said Lord Stark had left the capital after that, swearing that Robert was no longer his friend.”

“So they made their peace in their grief over Lady Lyanna.” Then Garlan relaxed against his chair, flabbergasted.

“So it seems you have arrived at my wild thought, my dear.”

“Are you… are you saying that… that is very wild, Grandmother!”

“Is it? The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was there with other two white cloaks, completely overlooking their duty to their King. Ned Stark arrived to have his sister die in his arms ‘of a fever’. Ashara and Arthur Dayne forged their deaths, only to reappear sixteen years later respectively as Lady Stark and Lord Starling’s personal sword. Lady Ashara is no mystery, she was Princess Elia’s best friend, she was in danger just for that. And, as you said, everyone saw her and Ned Stark in Harrenhall. But Arthur Dayne… he wouldn’t have gone into hiding only to save his skin. To wait for a restoration, yes, but to hide? It doesn’t match his reputation. And I can’t get past him serving Jon Starling and not Daenerys Targaryen.”

“Rhaegar’s son, hiding right beneath our eyes… it’s incredible, Grandmother.”

“And easy enough to believe. Ned Stark would have protected his nephew, he values family above all else, everyone knows that. And the boy might look like a Stark, but he is not broad-shouldered and large as they are. Rather he is slender and gracious, like Rhaegar was.”

“But what about Elia? Rhaegar was married to her. Not to Lady Lyanna.”

“The High Septon was in Dorne during the Rebellion, Garlan. Again, no one questioned it because he said he had fled the war. But why flee to a remote part of Dorne? Why return in the retinue of Ned Stark?”

“You’re saying that the High Septon was in Dorne to marry Rhaegar and Lyanna?”

“And hid out there for the rest of the war — wisely, it proved to be, since he wasn’t there for the Sack,” Olenna said. “Besides, Rhaegar wouldn’t be the first Targaryen to have more than one wife. If the rumour about Princess Elia’s barrenness was true, the High Septon might have allowed it without much fuss. And if Rhaegar and Lyanna were married, then Jon Starling is no bastard. He is a trueborn Targaryen. He is the trueborn son of the Prince of Dragonstone. He is the heir to the Iron Throne.”

“It’s all speculation, Grandmother. And besides, if this man really is Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia’s son, he is the eldest. He is the heir, not Jon.”

“I know,” Olenna said, sighing. “But, as I said, how can this Aegon prove his claim? Jon Starling will have the word of the Warden of the North and of a Kingsguard who happened to be Rhaegar’s best friend. And whatever documents they managed to secure. And he has something even more valuable. He has Daenerys. He has married a trueborn and verified Targaryen and they have three heirs to show for a secure dynasty. In times of war, Garlan, nothing matters more than stability. Besides, as you said, your sister is a Stark now. Your good-sister had to flee the capital with your nephew in order to escape an unprovoked attack. We have no other option but to side with the Starks.”

“I’ll gather the men, Grandmother. But only Father can call the banners.”

“I know. I’m only waiting for him to return from his hunt. But let’s get things in motion.”

Garlan nodded and left the room, his head full with so much speculation. Olenna sighed. Regardless of her thoughts on Jon Starling’s paternity, Daenerys was still the best choice. But what a mess wouldn’t this cause around the Kingdoms.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beloved readers!
> 
> Unfortunately, the semester is picking up and yesterday was a full day, so we got a little delay. I apologise, since I update "on schedule", but it couldn't be helped. I know most of you are understanding and lovely, but I just wanted to remark that I do this out of love but I have a private life as well, that's all, thanks for listening to me bitchin'
> 
> Due to the lack of time, I will try and reply to comments during the week, but once again we might get a little delay on the replies. Don't let that discourage you from commenting, I read most of them as they arrive in my inbox and I will answer to every single one of them as I always do. I only thinking writing takes precedence ;)
> 
> To those who were disappointed with the delay I'm sorry. I posted a 'warning' of sorts last night on tumblr, when I noticed I wouldn't make it, so if you want to get these news instead of wondering, go check my tumblr @fairytalelovr
> 
> In the end, EVERYONE HOLD ONTO YOUR SEATS!!!! IT'S TONIGHT GUYS!!! I couldn't be more excited!


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Jon begin plotting their way west while Renly receives visitors in Storm's End and Edric open Starfall for family.

Willas had seen some surprising things in his life, but he had to admit that Jon Starling being the hidden trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark was certainly a twist no one expected at this point.

First, weeks ago, it had been the revelation that ‘Addam’ was actually Ser Arthur Dayne. A revelation that happened almost by accident, once the thin wooden walls of the ship couldn’t hide the explosive argument between Jon and Arya. Though the subject of the argument wasn’t touched upon, Willas and Ser Davos had been on their way to the command cabin and heard as the girl yelled that her brother was being a stubborn arse and should at least listen to Uncle Arthur who would have some idea of what he was talking about since he was a Kingsguard. Ghost had scratched the door and interrupted the argument at seeing the two men coming down the narrow corridor, but it was impossible to pretend they hadn’t heard. Jon had only sighed and from then on didn’t bother calling him Addam again.

Arriving in Meereen and hearing Daenerys had taken the city and was ruling as queen had been both surprising and pleasing, but it was the revelation on their second morning in the city that had been amazing: Jon Targaryen would return west to claim his birthright next to his wife and queen. Willas, while shocked, didn’t hesitate in saying that House Tyrell would stand with them. Jon’s parentage notwithstanding, he knew his grandmother had been shifting them into this position ever since Margaery and Robb were betrothed. And if House Tyrell declared for King Jon and Queen Daenerys, Hobber had had no other option but declare the fealty of House Redwyne, even without consulting his father.

Right now, as he came down the corridors to a council meeting, Willas couldn’t help but wish his grandmother were here. She would know how best to handle this surprising discovery. He had known for years that war was coming ever closer, but he couldn’t help but think that, while he had made the right choice in supporting the Targaryens, his lady wife and son were in King’s Landing. He could only hope that she had been able to leave. That her grandfather and the Starks had ensured her safety. And he hated that the Essosi didn’t use ravens. It would be a long time of unknowing until news from Westeros arrived.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Davos had requested a private audience with the King and Queen before the meeting they had called, and Jon could already imagine the reason for such a request. And he had been right.

“I have nothing against you, Your Graces,” Davos said, though they could see he was extremely nervous. “But if I am anything today, I owe it to Lord Stannis. My lands and castle are in the Stormlands. I’m afraid…”

“You don’t need to justify yourself, Ser Davos,” Jon said. “I know you came to the Blessed Island because of a deal I made with Lord Stannis, a trade deal that will not stand now that we are to declare war on his brother. You stayed longer than was strictly said in my agreement with Stannis because we know we can trust you and your services and because Lord Stannis had not called. However much we might regret this, we will not condemn you for following your duty.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’m sorry it came to this, I don’t mind saying it.”

“Because you are this far from Westeros due to your service to us, we will bring you as far as Tyrosh in our ships,” Jon continued. “You will be kept away from any council meetings and will no longer captain the ship, but we promise you and your sons will be safe and unharmed.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. You are an honourable man and maybe this will be treason, but I think you have the makings of a fine king.”

“We hope we don’t meet in battle, Ser Davos,” Dany said.

Ser Davos bowed and an Unsullied escorted him out of the solar.

“I am not questioning your decision, but you did consider that he knows everything about your navy, didn’t you?” Arthur asked.

“Aye,” Jon said and exhaled heavily. “I don’t like it, but there is nothing else I can do. If he bent the knee to us it would have been simple and easy, but he made it clear he would declare for Stannis. I can’t fault a man for his honour.”

“And we can trust Ser Davos. I don’t believe he would betray our secrets,” Dany said.

“He is a good man,” Arthur agreed. “But war is an ugly thing. I hope you’re right.”

“We can’t punish a man for his honour, Arthur,” Jon said.

“I know that.” The Kingsguard pursed his lips. “I simply don’t like the fact that one of Stannis’ most loyal supporters has such an intimate knowledge about your navy and your coastal defences at the Blessed Island.”

That made both Jon and Dany swallow dry. Then Jon exhaled. “He came to us in good faith and he enjoys our protection as our guest. I can’t fault him for his honour and I will not betray his trust in us. I’m afraid we are left with the hope that he will keep our secrets.”

“I suppose we won’t go straight home?” Dany asked, her hand resting on her bump. Jon followed the movement.

“We can’t, not if we want to take the Kingdoms. If we already have the North, it makes no sense to draw everyone there. And I don’t want this getting anywhere near the children!” he exclaimed fervently. He would have added that Dany should be there with them, but he knew she would have a protest as to how the Queen wouldn’t abandon her army.

Willas and the Archmaester arrived, so they stopped the planning for a moment. Grey Worm, Daario, and Drogo also joined them. It was an odd council, Dany had to admit. And then Arya finally arrived.

“The first order of business,” Dany opened the meeting as they were all seated, “is to ascertain who is joining us as we sail west,” she said turning to the three Essosi. The Dothraki girl from the Red Temple was standing behind Drogo, translating for him.

“Unsullied who wanted to leave are gone, my queen,” Grey Worm said. “Those of us who stayed will follow you, Your Grace.” Dany nodded at him and smiled. That was already eight thousand more men in their army.

“The Second Sons will also follow you, my queen.”

“In exchange of gold,” Jon said.

“We are a sellsword company. We fight for gold.” Daario returned.

“What about the Dothraki?” Dany asked before either of them could bicker any more.

“Dothraki have never crossed the poisoned water,” Drogo started. “This is your war, Khaleesi, not ours. Your war for your power and your way of life. I will not follow.”

Dany nodded. “I won’t say I don’t regret it,” she said in Dothraki and Missandei stepped closer to the table to translate. “Because your warriors would be fearsome allies. But I understand and respect your position. You and your men will have safe passage as you leave the city in the next few days.” Drogo nodded, understanding the dismissal, and left the room, his translator rushing after him.

“Well, now that it’s settled, let’s continue,” Dany said, returning to the Common Tongue.

“Thanks to the message Lady Stark managed to send us, we know we can already expect more Redwyne ships to escort us to the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon said. “But there remains the question of _where_ in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Given that the North is already on your side, I do believe landing there would not serve any strategic purpose,” Willas said.

“Aegon I started his conquest at Harrenhall,” Marwyn said. “It would have some weight to begin there again.”

“Harrenhall is in the Riverlands,” Jon said. “That will be… a delicate situation.”

The discussion around the table continued, but Arthur stood up when he saw Noon flying outside. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said hurriedly, not waiting for a response before he all but ran out of the room. He took the letter from Noon, found some sunflower seeds for him, and left him to rest as he opened his sister’s letter on his way back to the council chambers. “The Usurper has fallen,” he announced, cutting through what Willas was saying.

“How?” Dany asked.

“And my father?” Arya was worried.

“Ashara managed to get him and the Usurper out of the city. Lord Manderly commandeered the navy and they are on the way to Starfall. Prince Oberyn met them halfway and the Royal Fleet, joined by the Dornish Fleet, is making a blockade of both sides of the Summer Sea. Lannisters seized the capital and the throne: Tommen has been named king, Cersei is Queen Regent, and Tywin is the Hand and Lord Protector.”

“If the Usurper had no right to the Iron Throne, Cersei Lannister’s bastard has even less,” Dany said.

“How is my father?” Jon insisted. “If Aunt Ashara took him out of the city it’s because he wasn’t able to leave himself.”

“He’s wounded,” Arthur said. “Ashara only says the maester is sure he’ll be fully recovered soon. She, Sansa, Rickon, Cregan, Serena, and Dyanna are going to Starfall and she’s sent a letter to Robb, asking him to raise the North. Lord Robett has orders to close the Moat. She asked to say that Lord Manderly, Lady Wynafryd, and Lord Lucas are safe with them.”

Willas exhaled heavily in relief.

“We need to get a message to Uncle Benjen,” Jon said and Arthur nodded unperceptively. “Tell him to make a blockade of the North — unless it’s a ship under the order of Lord Manderly or Lady Stark, it doesn’t pass.

“You should also tell Robb that he should do the same to the western shore: the Lannisters will send their fleet from Lannisport — if the Dornish blocked the Summer Sea, they’ll go north looking for trouble,” Willas suggested.

“And there’s the Iron Islands to think about,” Dany said. “They’ll enjoy the chaos.”

Jon nodded. “I’ll tell Robb to double the attention on Theon, I hate it but he is our hostage.” He sighed. “We are out of time to plot. If the Lannisters seized control amidst a mess, this is our chance to seize it back. They’ve collected only enemies over the years, so let’s use that to our benefit.” He exhaled. “Arthur, do we have the Dornish?”

“I don’t know. Ashara never set straight Oberyn’s assumption that you are her son with Ned. We have more than enough evidence of your true parentage, but Oberyn will certainly take offence on Elia’s behalf. Doran will probably let his hatred for the Lannisters, not to mention his sense of justice, speak louder, but there’s no knowing until we have their answers. They are known for being unpredictable, especially Oberyn. But we can ask Sarella to speak on your behalf.”

“Going to Dorne might be too dangerous before we know,” Willas said. “Even after returning Lady Sarella unharmed and if she agrees to speak for you. You won’t be able to go into the Blackwater Bay either — Lord Manderly took the Royal Fleet, fine, but if we claim Tommen’s illegitimacy, then Stannis will say he is Robert’s heir and his fleet in Dragonstone won’t let you through. Perhaps we should indeed gather in Harrenhall. We’ll have enough room inside the walls to put up as many tents as we need for the army and I’m sure we can get enough rooms sorted out for the nobles, their advisers, and the higher officers.”

“Well, Dragonstone is Lyanna’s, so Stannis better be prepared to say good-bye,” Jon muttered.

“We should turn north near the Essosi coast,” Arthur said. “Cross and make shore in Maidenpool — they took the Royal side in the Rebellion — and the Crownlands are likely to join you, since they were Targaryen loyalists, and from there you’re halfway to everywhere.”

“How soon can we leave?” Dany asked as Jon nodded his agreement.

“Five days, my queen,” Orys said. “We don’t have enough to reach Westeros, though, we’ll need to stop somewhere.”

“We’ll need to stop in Volantis, at least,” Jon said though he didn’t seem eager. “If we send a message beforehand, the merchants will have time to find supplies.” He turned to Orys. “Make sure it gets there before us. Ask the messenger to tell the merchants to have the supplies ready so we can load them as fast as possible.”

Orys nodded. “They don’t have ravens in Essos, but if we send off one of the ships out today or tomorrow morning at the latest, they’ll get to Volantis before us. At least we’ll have this time of advance warning.”

Dany nodded, though she was distracted. It had just occurred to her. Another part of her dream. _When you come west, you must let them through the Fourteen. Fire thrives in fire, Dany._ Rhaegar’s warning. It had made no sense at the time, as nothing her brother had said did. She had been making sense of it slowly.

The meeting dispersed then and everyone begun to leave. “Jon,” she called. He turned to her and stayed behind, and Dany waited until Arthur had closed the door behind himself. “Do you remember that dream I had with Rhaegar? That last one, where he spoke to me.”

“I do. I told you, Arthur told me the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree.”

“I know, I know, I get now why the trees were laughing. But… Rhaegar told me something. It didn’t make sense at the time, but it does now. He said: ‘when you come west, you must let them through the Fourteen. Fire thrives in fire, Dany’. I didn’t understand back then, was I going to cross Westeros to the other coast? But we are in Meereen now. We will be going west.”

“What about this fourteen? Let who through fourteen what?” Jon asked,

“This is tied to the second part. _Fire thrives in fire_. I think he was talking about the dragons.”

“Alright. You told me how they hatched. But what about the fourteen?”

“The Fourteen Flames, Jon. The fourteen volcanoes that made up Valyria. Dragons didn’t come from Valyria, from the land, they came from the volcanoes. Fire made flesh. That is what Rhaegar meant, that fire thrives in fire.”

“And that’s why we found the children’s eggs in our volcano. But Dany, Valyria is a ruin. There is nothing left there.”

“The volcanos are there. The city is gone, I know, but the volcanos are still there. All fourteen of them.”

Jon sat back on his chair, confused. “You want to go through the ruins of Valyria, is that it? Dany, you know what they say of the place. Even if we discount a lot of it as superstition, it is true that no one has travelled there and returned to tell the tale. That’s why everyone circumvents the peninsula, even with the longer journey.”

“We can take a smaller ship that will allow us to cross,” she insisted. “Rhaegar wouldn’t have sent us there if it was a suicide mission.”

“Well, we’ve been through enough that discrediting your dreams would be unwise,” Jon said. “Alright. If you think it’s so important, we’ll take a smaller ship to cross the Smoking Sea and leave the rest of the fleet continue on the regular way to Volantis. Now come on, we have a lot to do. You have to decide what you’re going to do with Meereen once we leave.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Renly was not at all happy lately. His brother, the King, had been murdered by his own wife and Cersei had taken over King’s Landing with an expediency that showed the plan was Tywin’s. He had known difficult times were coming, but it was when Cersei proclaimed Ned Stark a traitor that he knew the entire realm would be drawn into a bloody long war again.

Renly had begun his escape from the Red Keep as the guards started to drag Ned Stark out, still impacted by the revelation that Tommen and Myrcella were not his nephew and niece. Though he couldn’t claim to be overly surprised. Ella had managed the impossible, as far as he was concerned, succeeding in evading the red cloaks and the gold cloaks, escape the castle and make it to the harbour, where she absconded with the Royal fleet — or what remained of it anyway. He and his men rode hard and made it to Storm’s End on record time, but Renly doubted the walls of the castle would protect him forever. He wasn’t Stannis. But, remembering the dark days of the Rebellion, Renly ordered the castle’s stores to be stocked to full capacity — if war broke, they would have food for as long as humanly possible.

It was only a few days after Renly had closed the castle and the borders to the Stormlands that he got the next round of terrible news: Dragonstone had been taken, Stannis was dead, and Aegon Targaryen was alive. That was when he knew he was irremediably fucked. The way the war had been designing itself, it would be the Lannisters trying to sit Tommen versus the Starks in support of Daenerys. Renly knew Robert would curse him from the grave, but he could never side with the lions, especially not when they were guilty of regicide — and twice over. Also, the Starks were already counting with much more support than the Lannisters. Besides, regardless of his connection to the rebel against House Targaryen, Renly was counting on Ned Stark’s interference and support.

However, if Aegon Targaryen was alive… the boy hadn’t grown up in Westeros and was unlikely to trust anyone with the name Baratheon. He had no idea what would happen once Daenerys and Jon Starling were back: would she stay away from the conflict, would she support her nephew, would she not recognise him as nephew and fight for the throne herself… too many unknowns.

Robert was dead, Stannis was dead, and now Renly was the last Baratheon — how the tables had turned, that House Baratheon was one man from extinction while House Targaryen had three heirs already, safely tucked away in the North. In this despairing situation, it was a relief when his guards brought the news of the arrivals at the harbour.

“Nieces and nephews!” Renly exclaimed, deciding to keep the pretence until he had a better grasp on what they knew. “I cannot tell you how relived I am to see you. And look at you, you look like you’ve been through quite the ordeal.”

“What happened to Dragonstone? How is my father?” Shireen demanded.

Renly hated to give her the news. “I’m terribly sorry to tell you that Stannis is gone, my dear niece. Dragonstone is lost.”

“Who took it?” the girl asked, her lips trembling.

“A man calling himself Aegon Targaryen, the son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia,” Renly informed. “We have no news on your lady mother and until just now, I thought you were all lost as well.”

“But my lord father sent the Royal navy, did he not?” Tommen asked.

Renly exchanged a look with his bastard nephew, realising there was something he hadn’t told the others — by the time they had left Dragonstone, Robert had already died.

“I’m terribly sorry to only have bad news, my dears. Robert is also gone. The capital was taken.”

“How did this Aegon Targaryen manage to take both Dragonstone and King’s Landing?” Shireen asked.

Tommen was only shocked into silence, Edric Storm seemed resigned, but Myrcella frowned.

“What about my grandfather? Is he not sending the Lannister army?”

That soothed Renly’s worries to an extent — the children were unaware of what had _really_ happened. “The last news I had, the red cloaks had already left Casterly Rock, but I don’t know where they are now. The Starks also managed to flee the capital in time and so I believe their army will also march south. But that is enough of that now. We have too little information on what’s happening, it’s useless to conjecture until we know more. Come, let’s get all of you chambers and a bath.” He waved servants over to escort Shireen, Myrcella, and Tommen upstairs. Once they were gone, the Captain of the Guard came closer. “Make sure no one tells them _who_ took the capital and Ned Stark’s revelations in the throne room.”

“Of course, my lord.” The man quickly departed, taking three other guards with him.

“Now, my dear nephew, what did really happen in Dragonstone?” Renly asked.

Edric Storm exhaled. “We were surprised by a naval attack. Uncle Stannis sent his first line of defence, but they were defeated. That is when we noticed the attacking ships had Lannister sails. So we knew they were there for Tommen and Myrcella and we also realised it probably meant that the King was dead.”

“They didn’t try taking them peacefully before attacking?” Renly frowned.

“No. They approached at night, it was a new moon, we only saw them once they had already attacked our first watch tower. By morning near a quarter the fleet was gone — we weren’t prepared for the surprise attack. By the end of the first day, with half the fleet gone, Uncle Stannis saw that they had almost four ships for each of ours, so he told me to take the children and bring them here. If the Lannisters were attacking, Tommen and Myrcella were our best bet to stay alive, and he also didn’t want them to harm Shireen. He was aware of what Lannisters do to the children of their enemies.”

“So the ships were Lannister ships?”

“The first line, yes,” Edric Storm said. “But by the second day we saw that there was a second fleet of enemies coming. That’s when Uncle Stannis told me to leave. From what the guards from the watch tower said, this second fleet upped it to ten ships against each of ours. I assume it was the Targaryen fleet.”

“You’re right.” Renly scoffed. “It seems Aegon Targaryen timed his arrival perfectly. The Lannisters took out Stannis and were still disorganised, trying to take the castle, so they were easy prey. I doubt there was an easier way to take the island.”

“Is he in league with the Starlings?” Dale asked, worried now. His father and two of his brothers had left to Essos with Lord Starling.

“We don’t know,” Renly said grumpily. “As far as we know Jon Starling hasn’t found his wife yet, they are still gone to Essos. If they are in league, we have a big problem, because the North will most certainly side with House Targaryen — Cersei branded Ned Stark a traitor in front of the whole Court and they had to flee the capital. With the North, the dragons already have the Reach, who are long-time supporters anyway, and Dorne is certain to join them. But if the Starlings are not aware of this Aegon person… if they come back and don’t side with Aegon, then Daenerys will claim the throne for herself. And that will mean too many sides against us.”

“What are you going to tell Tommen and Myrcella, Uncle?” Edric Storm asked.

“Nothing. The reason Cersei called Ned Stark a traitor is because he declared to Court that Tommen and Myrcella are not your half-siblings, but rather Jaime Lannister’s bastards. Regardless of it being true or not — though it more likely is — the Lannisters will deny it and the Starks will stand by it. Whichever the case, they are our best bet for a lifeline right now. If I tell them Cersei is the one who killed Robert and took the capital, they won’t believe me and will be a nightmare, trying to go to mama. Best to let them think we’ve lost both the capital and Dragonstone and that there is a war happening for them.”

The young men nodded.

“Lord Baratheon,” Dale called and Renly was startled — since Robert was King, he had never been called by his House’s name before, “with your leave, we would like to go back to Cape Wrath, to check on our lady mother. She is alone with our two younger siblings.”

“Oh.” Renly took a moment to think. But he knew of Ser Davos’ blind loyalty to Stannis. “Of course. You are also welcome to bring your family here, as Storm’s End will be better equipped to hold against a siege.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

With that the three Seaworths left the room.

“Are we really going home, Dale?” Maric asked once they were far enough and out of ear range from any guards.

“You and Devan are. I want you to go home, protect yourselves as best you can, and keep Mother, Stannis, and Steffon safe until you hear back from me or Father.”

“And where are you going?” Devan asked.

“I’ll take a ship to Tyrosh. Wherever in Essos Father, Allard, and Mathos are, I’m certain they will stop by there. Or at least there I’ll get better news of them. So go home and be safe.”

“Don’t you think that’s too dangerous?” Maric asked, uneasy.

“Yes. But what other choice do I have? If Father hears about Dragonstone but doesn’t know we made it out, he may try something stupid to try and get us back. But if I can find him before he crosses the Narrow Sea, then it will be fine. That is what we must do now.”

However right he was, none of them liked the decision.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Edric Dayne rushed down the dock at Starfall, extending a hand to help Sansa disembark. “My lady, welcome to my home. Though by the lack of warning, I can imagine there was some trouble.”

“Isn't there always trouble?” Ashara said and he quickly stepped away to help her. “Nephew, how good it is to see you.” She hugged him.

His face hardened, understanding the gravity of the situation. “It is good to see you too, Aunt. Come, let’s get you inside. Where is Uncle?”

“Next boat,” Ashara said, setting Cregan down next to Rickon and reaching for the girls as Bertha passed them over to be able to disembark as well. “But there’s more.”

Edric saw the two gurneys on the boat that now reached the dock and recognised the second man. “We’ve heard gossip from the capital that Robert Baratheon had been killed by a boar in a hunt and therefore Tommen was King. They also said House Stark stole the King’s corpse. I knew it couldn’t be just that.”

“The Usurper is on his last days,” Ashara informed, “felled by a boar, that much is true. We’re hoping to keep him alive long enough until your uncle returns from Essos.”

“Dusk just delivered a letter — it was addressed to you, but I imagine he came home after he couldn’t find you in the capital. But let’s get inside. Aunt Allyria is eager to make a welcome.”

“She’s home?” Ashara asked.

“Yes. Lord Dondarrion had business to take care of in the Stormlands, so she decided to come home,” Edric explained, offering his arm to Sansa.

He ordered his men to ensure Ned and Robert were on their way to the castle as fast as possible, and immediately taken to the maester’s laboratory and then they took the way to the castle. Ashara rushed to the desk, and the letter on it, as soon as they made it to the solar.

 

> _My dear sister,_
> 
> _We found Queen Daenerys in Meereen. She is safe and well and so is the baby. She also got through to King Jon and we will soon be on our way to Westeros, to reclaim House Targaryen’s throne._

Ashara exhaled in relief. “They found Daenerys. She is well and so is the baby. They are on their way back,” she announced and Sansa thanked the gods.

 

> _Lord Willas already declared the support of House Tyrell, even though he is not the Lord of Highgarden, but given that this was obviously Lady Olenna’s plan all along, marrying Margaery to Robb, I doubt Mace will be against it._
> 
> _I hope you have already arrived safely in Starfall. Jon sent a letter to Robb, but I think it is safe to assume that he wouldn’t think of anything other than siding with his brother. The Vale and the Riverlands will present their own difficulties, but can you try and persuade the Martells? I know they wanted to support Daenerys, but gods only know Oberyn’s reaction to Jon. I hope Ned is recovered, little sister. Be safe!_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Ser Arthur Dayne, Kingsguard to House Targaryen_

 

“Willas bent the knee already and Jon’s sent a letter to Robb.” Ashara sighed. “Oberyn didn’t give an answer yet.”

“We will stand with you, Aunt,” Edric said, not hiding his frown. “Even if Sunspear doesn’t.”

“Thank you, love.” Ashara sighed. “I must send another letter to Robb, tell him we arrived safely. And write back to your Uncle, obviously.” She chanced a look out the window and swallowed. “And then I’ll… I’ll just…”

“I went to my father’s just two days ago and brought her some fresh flowers. Whenever you’re ready, Aunt.”

Ashara blinked away her tears. “I need to check on the children.” She rushed out of the room.

“She is here, then. My sister,” Sansa said softly and Edric only nodded. “I know it was not your secret to tell me. But would you…”

“I made her promise to tell you before we were married,” he said. “A lie by omission is still a lie and I didn’t want our marriage to start like that.”

“Thank you.” Sansa smiled. “And I supposed I should…” she blushed, looking down, realising they were in his solar, completely alone for the first time.

“I can escort you to your chambers, my lady,” Edric said, though he reached for hand. When she only looked up, biting her lower lip, he took a chance and bent down for a sweet and soft kiss.

Sansa smiled as they kissed, softly and lovingly, butterflies taking flight in her stomach. It was all like a song.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ashara had checked on the children, making sure they were safe and happy, then went to see how Ned was doing, but Maester Byren said there was no change. She then allowed the guards to escort her to her old chambers and was halfway through her letter when there was a knock on the door of her solar.

“By the look on your face, Varys, I’m certain I won’t like what you have to tell me.” She put her quill down.

“Yes, I highly doubt it. Dragonstone was taken and Lord Stannis is dead.”

“Unfortunate, but unsurprising,” she said.

“Well, the surprise is who took it,” the Spider said.

“Who? Wasn’t it the Lannisters? I mean, Tommen and Myrcella were there.”

“The Lannisters _tried_ to take it, and from what my little birds tell me, they managed to take down Stannis’ fleet, kill the man, and take the beach. But then another fleet came and destroyed what Stannis’ ships hadn’t destroyed of the Lannisters, taking the beach, and also managing to take the castle.”

“Another fleet?” Ashara frowned. “Arthur said they were leaving Meereen, they didn’t have time to get to Dragonstone yet. Besides, I doubt Jon and Daenerys would simply kill Stannis without attempting to parley.”

“Oh, I agree. But it wasn’t them. The island was taken by a man who calls himself Aegon Targaryen, son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia.”

Ashara sat back on her chair, flabbergasted. “That Aegon is dead,” she said with a trembling voice. “Ned saw him, he saw what… then who was there at the Red Keep? Who got him out? Where has he been for the past twenty years?”

“I saw Prince Aegon’s remains myself, my lady. Though I must admit that after… with his skull bashed in, if you will forgive me the bluntness, but he was quite unrecognisable. The boy in the throne room next to who was certainly Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys had fair hair but that was all we knew.”

“And where, pray tell, did Elia find another boy with fair hair? Why would she save Aegon and not Rhaenys? I refuse to believe that. She would have stayed behind if it meant their lives, but she would save them both, I know my friend. And still, who got him out and where was he?”

“Jon Connington.”

“Jon… Connington? But… Connington was already in exile by the time the Sack happened! With Rhaegar gone, he wouldn’t have risked getting into the Red Keep!”

“I don’t yet know anything more than this, my lady. There was a boy with fair hair and an unrecognisable face in the Red Keep on the night of the Sack, a boy Tywin Lannister claimed to be Aegon Targaryen, a claim no one challenged. I don’t know if he was indeed smuggled out — and the castle was enough of a mess that I could have let it pass by me. I don’t know who took him to Essos. All I know is that he is claiming to be Aegon Targaryen, he took Dragonstone, and he sent a messenger that probably already arrived in Sunspear. And he sent a raven to provoke Cersei.”

“Oh, that is terrible.” Ashara took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “A pretender in Dragonstone. That will take our Dornish support, not to mention that it will be one more front to fight. If Jon will want to fight him at all, which is a question.” She drummed her fingers on the desk. “Can you find out more about this alleged Aegon Targaryen? Including who is financing him and which sellsword company is backing him? Because I doubt he and Connington took Dragonstone by themselves.”

“I already sent my little birds flying, Lady Stark. And I know Lord Stark still sleeps, but as you said, there goes our Dornish support. So if you want to stay at Starfall…”

“Prince Oberyn already said he wouldn’t get in the way of the Dayne–Stark alliance.”

“That was before a man claiming to be his long-lost nephew joined the game. And regardless of your marriage to Lord Stark, the Dayne–Stark alliance will really only be complete when…”

“Yes, Varys, I know.” She huffed. “I won’t make any hasty decisions. Until it becomes a matter of life or death, I will not even cogitate the idea of having Sansa and Edric marry without Lord Stark awake.”

Varys bowed his head. “Of course, my lady. I’ll try and find out more.”

“Varys?” she called him back. “Find out whether Tommen and Myrcella escaped or are hostages in Dragonstone. Also, what happened to Stannis’s wife and daughter.”

The spymaster nodded and left. Ashara sighed. Well, at least she hadn’t finished the letter to Arthur yet.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

His mind was hazy, confused, and his belly burned in pain. Robert blinked, trying to make sense of the room around him, but he didn’t recognise anything. Was it a different wing? But no… the walls and sconces, the building itself, what little he could see, was not the Red Keep. It was also hotter than it had been in King’s Landing since summer ended. How long had he been unconscious?

“I have to give it to you, you are a hard man to kill.”

Robert turned to the voice, feeling stitches pulling at his belly. Right. The boar. “Ella?” he croaked, recognising the woman. “Where are we?”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“My name is not Ella,” she said and Robert frowned. “It has never been. But we knew that you would have me killed without a second thought, so we lied.”

“Ned would never lie to me.” Robert coughed. “Where are we? I demand to know! I am the King!”

“Cersei took your throne. Right after she poisoned your wine so you wouldn’t be able to fight back. She is the reason that boar got you. You are no king, Robert, not anymore.”

“Where are we?” he insisted. “Where is Ned?”

“In the other room, trying to recover from the injury Cersei gave him. As to where we are… well, you won’t like the answer.”

“Tell me, damn it! Where are we?”

“We are in Starfall,” Ashara said with a small smile.

Robert relaxed against the pillows, shocked. Starfall. House Dayne. Her name was never Ella, she lied because he would have… she was wearing purple, a damned Dayne sigil embroidered right next to a grey direwolf on her chest.

“You are Ashara Dayne.” Then he felt the burn of betrayal. He remembered teasing Ned because he had been infatuated with her in Harrenhall, then Ned had returned the Dayne sword and been here when she had allegedly committed suicide. Ned would have recognised her. “I don’t believe you. Ned wouldn’t lie to me.”

“You were in a murderous spree against anyone who was remotely connected to House Targaryen. You rewarded Tywin for the slaughter he made in the Sack. Do you really think Ned would stand by and let you murder me for no cause?”

“Why come back, then? Why come back to the capital if you were so afraid of me?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t recognise me then. No one would — no one _did_. Only Ned. And he knew I was alive already, he’d always known.”

“You are LYING! Ned wouldn’t lie to me! He would never keep the truth from me, he would never marry you under a fake name! Why would he?”

“Because he didn’t trust you!” Ashara said and scoffed. “Ned saw who you truly are when you stood by and did nothing. When you looked at the terrible sight of Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon slaughtered and wrapped in enemy banners and did nothing, said only that it was war and they were not children, but dragonspawn. But that is not what I wanted to tell you. Actually, I only told you my name so you would know that I am speaking the truth when I tell you this next bit.”

“Arthur Dayne was in the Tower,” Robert said in a whisper. “Did you know? Did you know where she was? Was that why you were afraid of me? Because you knew I wouldn’t forgive your betrayal?”

“I was never loyal to you, Robert, therefore I could never have betrayed you. Besides, it was Lyanna who asked me to not tell anyone where she was. Where _they_ were.”

“Liar!” Robert was incensed again and Ashara couldn’t help but feel satisfaction fill her. “You are lying! Lyanna wouldn’t… she would…” he tried to stand up and groaned in pain, falling back onto the pillows.

“Are you really daft enough to believe in the lie you told the Kingdoms?”

“He took her,” Robert insisted, his fists clenched, eager to throw something and irate his body didn’t cooperate with his state of mind. “That bloody dragon took her.”

“He didn’t, Robert. He didn’t _take_ her. They met halfway and they came here together. Because Lyanna said that if Rhaegar wasn’t serious about marrying her, then she would flee to Essos. But she would die before she married you.”

“LIAR!” he exclaimed, trying to get up again, muttering a loud curse, and groaning in pain, once more thwarted.

“You would force her to give up everything she loved: horseback riding in leathers, archery, the sword lessons she managed to take in secret. You would force her to be a proper southern lady, and she couldn’t stand the thought. You would have sent her to her solar to embroider, except she had thrown her sewing needles away when she was ten. And above all else, once you had gotten her, once she was no longer unattainable, the thrill would fade. You would dishonour and disrespect her and go back to your whores.”

“I loved her!”

“You loved the idea of being Ned’s brother!” Ashara exclaimed. “You never even knew Lyanna! How many times did I not hear you complain that Cersei was stubborn, that she was this and that, and I’m not judging for that, but in the same breath you would say that you wouldn’t have suffered that if you had been with Lyanna. You never knew her, Robert. You knew Lord Stark’s daughter, you never cared to get to know Lyanna. She was more stubborn than Ned, she was fierce and loyal and she hated hypocrisy. She would have irritated you a hundred times more than Cersei did. If you think Cersei defied you in public, Lyanna would have made you the laugh of Court by disputing and questioning your every decision.”

_You saw her beauty, not the iron underneath_ , Ned had told him on the way from Winterfell to King’s Landing.

“I don’t believe you! Lyanna wouldn’t have… he took her!”

“Keep telling yourself that, Robert, if it makes you happier. But it won’t change the truth. Now, would you like to hear what she said in her last moments alive?” she asked but Robert didn’t answer. He was no longer sure. “She said, and Ned told me: ‘I curse him. As he’s taken my husband from me, as he’s taken my son from me, as he is condemning my son to the life of an orphan, fearing for his safety, I curse him. Robert Baratheon will never see a son of his grow up, he will never live to be proud of a son of his blood. His life will be empty of joy and purpose and he will come to despise the throne he stole in the height of his hubris’.”

“Her what?” Robert asked and for the first time Ashara saw sadness in his eyes.

“Her husband.”

“No! Lies! These are lies!”

“Rhaegar didn’t kidnap her, Robert, they got married,” Ashara continued. “And she didn’t die of a fever. She felt faint because she got the news of what you had allowed in the Sack. Of how you had rewarded the murderer of her husband’s children. She fell and went into labour.”

“He raped a child into her?”

“Aren’t you listening, Robert? Rhaegar didn’t take or rape her. She went to him, they met, and they married. And she carried his son. And her last words were begging Ned to protect her baby boy. Who do you think Ned is more loyal to, a murderer or his sister?”

“He didn’t… he never brought back Lyanna’s child!”

“He didn’t _tell_ you the boy was Lyanna’s. But Ned did come back with a baby boy, didn’t he? A boy he claimed as his.”

And then Robert finally couldn’t deny it anymore. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you failed, Robert. You vowed to destroy House Targaryen and you failed. Because Lyanna is avenged. You never saw a son of yours grow up, you were never proud of a son of your blood. Your life _was_ empty of joy and purpose and you did come to despise, or at least resent, the throne you stole in the height of your hubris. Because you are here, dying, alone, while Jon is safe, like Lyanna wanted him to be. Because Lyanna and Rhaegar’s grandchildren are safe and beyond your reach. Because you deserve every bit of pain I can inflict on you for how you rewarded the slaughter of my best friend and her two children. Because you deserve no absolution.”

“Are you going to kill me now?” Robert asked, forcing his chin to rise in defiance despite everything.

“I am not a killer. The maester said you are beyond saving. Your head wound is healed and that is why he stopped giving you milk of the poppy to keep you asleep, but the wound on your belly is too inflamed. I just wanted to tell you the truth before you died. Because you don’t deserve to die in peace.”

“Where is Ned?” Robert called as she begun to leave.

“I told you, he is recovering from the wound Cersei gave him as he tried to keep her from seizing the throne in Tommen’s name even before you died.”

“Tommen is in Dragonstone.”

“Dragonstone has fallen. The Lannisters broke through Stannis’ defence.”

“What about Stannis?”

“He is dead,” she informed, though this time it brought her no satisfaction. The man deserved better.

“And Renly? What did Cersei do to Renly?”

“He was in the throne room when I managed to get Ned from the guards dragging him to the dungeons. That is all I know.” She turned to leave again. “I won’t visit again. I’ve told you all I wanted to tell you. The servants and the maester will see to you, because I’m not a torturer. But I hope you are haunted by the truth that Lyanna hated you and loved Rhaegar for the rest of your life. However short it will be.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beloved readers!
> 
> Hope everyone survived season 8 premiere! Also, I'm working on replying to comments, but it'll take a while to be up to date. Regardless of that, I look forward, as always, to hearing what you guys thought :D


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb finds out some startling news, Tywin makes a decision regarding the Riverlands, and in Starfall a long-time coming conversation happens.

Robb was watching the wagons being loaded. Winterfell was buzzing with activity, the army getting ready to march. He hated it, hated the reason for it, though knew there was no other choice but war. That was when Maester Luwin came with a letter. “It’s… I don’t… it came the same way as Lady Stark’s letter, my lord.”

“Then why are you so anxious?” Robb asked, seeing his name scribbled on the front in Jon’s penmanship. Then he turned the envelope and understood the maester’s anxiousness: instead of the winter rose seal of House Starling on blue wax, it was a whole new seal, something he had never heard of before: the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen faced the left as the direwolf head of House Stark faced right, one overlapping the other and sealing the letter in red wax. He frowned as he opened it.

 

> _Dear brother,_
> 
> _I hope you’ll still think of me as a brother after this. A letter is a poor vessel for such news, but the events press me to do so, as we cannot wait until we meet again. I would hate for you to hear it from someone else._
> 
> _I have discovered who my mother is, Robb. I shall tell you how when we meet, but for now, it suffices to tell you that I know who she is and Arthur has confirmed it to me beyond doubt. My mother is Lyanna Stark, Robb. I am her son by her husband, Rhaegar Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone. ~~F~~ Uncle Ned found her as she was dying and promised her to fulfil her last wish: to keep me safe. In his eyes, the only way for that was to claim me as his bastard son and bring me back to Winterfell as a stain on his honour. I doubt he predicted, or even liked, Robert Baratheon betrothing Dany and I. But this is the truth, the reason Father would not speak of who my mother was._
> 
> _I have found Dany in Meereen and we are about to return west. And I hope you will not hate me when I say we are going to claim our House’s rights. Aunt Ashara sent us the news about the Usurper and the Lannister coup and I will not allow Cersei Lannister to sit her puppet on my throne, especially not when she spilt Father’s blood for it. You know me, Robb, you know I would not concoct such a plot nor would I draw the realm into another bloody war just for the glory of a crown. Cersei will destroy Westeros and that I cannot in good conscience allow, not when I have the power to stop it. I hope I can count on you and that we will meet in Harrenhall on the same side of this. I cannot bear to imagine otherwise._
> 
> _I hope Margaery, the children, and Bran are well and safe in Winterfell._
> 
> _All my love,_
> 
> _Jon of House Targaryen, First of My Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm_

 

Robb finished the letter flabbergasted. _Jon of House Targaryen, First of My Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men._ Jon of House Targaryen, First of My Name, King. He was simply baffled.

 “My lord!” One of the guards rushed up to them as they stood on the catwalk. “There’s a wildling here, milord. Says his name is Tormund and he would like an audience.”

“I doubt he was this polite,” Robb muttered, folding the letter and trying to wrap his head around it. “Bring Tormund to my solar, I’ll meet him there shortly,” he commanded and the guard left. Then Robb gave the letter to Maester Luwin. “You knew!” he exclaimed once he saw the lack of surprise on the old man’s face.

“I overheard Lord and Lady Stark once. My lord, it changes nothing.”

“It changes… how does it change nothing? It changes everything!”

“Does it?” the Maester smiled. “Does it change how you feel about His Grace? Does it make you want to send a letter back to your cousin?”

“He’s my _brother_!” Robb snapped and then blushed at the amusement at the old man’s face. “I see your point. But why would Father lie?”

“Because when his sister was dying in his arms, all she begged for was her son’s safety. Let’s imagine that you had fought a war to find Lady Arya, only to find her as she died in childbed. And all she begged for was for you to protect her son from a man she had repeatedly said she didn’t love and whom she knew would slit that baby’s throat because he was the son of his enemy. What would you do?”

“I would protect my nephew,” Robb answered without hesitation. “I would only trust myself to do so, and I would want him raised next to me, as he was the last thing I had of Arya. And then I knew I couldn’t bring him home as an orphan I had taken a liking to, no one would believe it. I would have to claim him as mine so no one would dispute his place in Winterfell.” He sighed: aye, he knew why Father had lied.

“The pack survives, my lord,” Maester Luwin intoned with an easy smile. “That is the most sacred rule there is.”

“It certainly is,” Robb said. “Tormund will be waiting, we must go.”

Still processing the information, Robb led the way to his solar. Tormund, Val, and a red headed woman were there waiting for him. They exchanged greetings and they introduced the woman as Ygritte.

“Is something the matter up north?” Robb asked.

“No,” Tormund said, poking his way around the room. “It’s all calm up there, no dead bodies coming down to attack. We’ve done a few rangings, the dragonglass is really good against them, but it’s all calm. We came because we heard the rumour about Lady Starling being taken and the Northern armies being called for war.”

Robb took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “We are indeed preparing for war. We will march south soon. But that doesn’t explain why you are here.”

“It is true that we are new to the Seven Kingdoms, Robb,” Val started, “But we’ve come to learn a lot in the past three years. We already knew the southern king, Robert Baratheon, had taken the throne from Lady Starling’s father—”

Robb snorted, cutting through. “I’m terribly sorry, I… it’s a long story, please continue.”

“What we’ve heard since we got here is that the Lannisters will attack as soon as the King dies in order to eliminate Lady Starling and the children, and probably Jon will get caught in the crossfire.”

“It is indeed something we have all been aware of for a while,” Robb agreed.

“So, considering that Jon is your brother and therefore your father wouldn’t let it stand, we got to the conclusion that these Lannisters are enemies of the Starks and probably won’t let us be here. We’re finally settling down, we don’t feel like getting into a war that would get as far as our families.”

“Reasonable,” Robb agreed again. “So…?”

“They took Lady Starling,” Tormund continued, “what means they’re on the move. Your armies are on the move south. If war is breaking out, we want to defend our right to be here as well. We want to join your war. We help you win it and then we don’t worry about staying. And we keep it away from the Gift, away from our families.”

“That simple?” Robb asked.

“Jon got killed because he helped us come south, because he saved our families,” the redheaded man said. “We owe it to him. So it is just as much for House Starling as it is for the Free Folk.”

“I see.” Robb nodded. “Well, war has been declared, so your army is more than welcome to join ours. As long as you understand that this war… it might take a while to end.”

“We know. But when it does, we are left in peace,” Val said. “Better than to live worried and then have a long battle to either exterminate us or chase us away back to where the White Walkers were taking us out like flies.”

“It’s reasonable. How many men do you bring?”

“Men and women,” Ygritte said.

“I’m sorry,” Robb smiled, “merely force of habit. How many warriors do you bring?”

“Five thousand. The rest is staying at the Wall,” Val said.

_A small force, given the number of Mance’s army, but more than enough of a help_ , Robb thought. “I must tell you, though, that recent revelations have changed a bit of the facts you knew.”

“You mean Jon got Lady Starling back?”

“Aye, he did. King Jon found Queen Daenerys and they prepare to sail back west to claim his birthright.”

“ _His_ birthright?” Val asked after a moment of stunned silence. “I thought he was your father’s bastard and that’s why the southern king had betrothed him to Lady Starling. Queen Daenerys, sorry.”

“My father claimed him as his natural son, to protect him from Robert Baratheon,” Robb explained. “Because in truth, King Jon is the son of my aunt, Princess Lyanna, and her husband, Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone.”

“But Theon…” Val blinked, confused. “I thought Daenerys’ brother had kidnapped your aunt.”

“Robert Baratheon said as much, because he loved my lady aunt and couldn’t accept she didn’t love him in return. My lord father allowed the lie to protect Jon.”

“Doesn’t change anything,” Tormund said. “These lion cunts wanted to kill Jon and Daenerys and their babies to keep the throne because they thought Daenerys was the queen. Now they want to kill Jon and Daenerys and their babies to keep the throne because Jon is the king. Either way, they don’t want us here while the dragons do.”

“I agree with Tormund,” Ygritte said. “Let the stuffed lords sort out who their leader is. Jon or Daenerys makes no difference to us. We’ll join them anyway.”

“Of course,” Val agreed. “Our position stands.”

“Then welcome to our war effort,” Robb said. “We are preparing to march in the next few days. You will be welcome in the castle and your army will have a place in our camp.”

“We don’t have fancy tents and very few horses,” Val said. “But we camp outside without fuss.”

“Well, I won’t stop you from camping outside, and we won’t have tents for everybody, I'm certain, but we’ll do our best.” Robb smiled. “And where is the army? My scouts would have warned me of such a large force approaching.”

“They’re camped about a five-day march north of here, we didn’t want to make anyone nervous. We came in horses so we can be there in two days if we ride hard. We can join you on the road.”

“Agreed,” Robb said. “It’s late afternoon, so you are welcome to spend the night here. Then by the time you get back here with your people, we’ll be marching out as well.”

The three Free Folk thanked him and Robb asked the guards to escort them to the guest house and give them chambers. He then picked up the letter from his pocket and gave it a last look, leaving his solar in search of his lady wife. He found her sorting through his clothes, picking and choosing something.

“Ahm… what are you doing?”

“I’m seeing how many shirts you have,” Margaery said, ruffling through another trunk. “Making them on the move is going to be complicated, so I want to have as many of them packed as possible. Patching you up can prove to be easier than sewing a torn shirt sometimes. I can’t believe I only thought to do this now!”

Robb blinked, but decided not to comment — she had been on a planning spree ever since Ashara’s letter arrived.

“I got a letter from Jon,” he said, hoping to draw her attention.

“Oh, really?” She stopped rummaging, looking up to him, but didn’t stand up. “Did he find Dany? Is she well? And the baby?”

“He did and they are fine,” Robb said. She smiled and thanked the gods, but returned to her task. “Marge, can you come up here?”

“Fine. Take these,” she extended a pile of shirts to him, “and put them on the table. These ones,” she stood up and took a second, smaller pile, “I’ll see if I can get them fitted for Bran or I’ll have them given away.” Robb chuckled, warm inside with her care. “Now tell me, what did Jon say that is so important?” she asked. Robb debated how to tell her, but finally only gave her the letter. She raised an eyebrow at the seal. “This is new.”

“I know. You’ll understand it when you read it.”

She hummed, displeased, and kept on reading, both her eyebrows only going higher and higher on her forehead.

“This is unexpected,” she said when she was done. Then she chuckled. “Oh, but this will put a lot of noses out of joint!” she exclaimed and Robb only rolled his eyes. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Go to Harrenhall and tell him he is still my brother and that I’m with him till the end.” She smiled fondly and kissed his cheek. Robb rolled his eyes. “You asked out of courtesy, didn’t you? You already knew what I was going to do.”

“Robb, you and Jon share a bond of true brothers, stronger than blood. I always knew that, it was clear from the moment we met. You had everything to resent him — and vice-versa — since you both thought him to be your father’s bastard. You, because of the offence to your lady mother his very presence symbolised and him because you were everything he would never be able to be. But neither of you ever let this cloud your love for each other. You wouldn’t let this,” she gestured with the letter, “be the thing that pulls you apart.”

“This won’t be as easy as we hope to be.”

“It’s war, Robb. It is not going to be easy and it is not going to be bloodless.”

He sighed and pulled her into a hug. He was not looking forward to marching south. He knew it was necessary, he knew it was his duty, but it didn’t mean he enjoyed any more.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned felt the haze of milk of the poppy dissipate and his conscience returned slowly to the waking world. This time was unlike his leg injury, in which his mind had been in and out of it, but he had been able to connect with Silver on occasion. Now, he knew he had slept for at least a couple of days and he had been completely out of it.

He blinked awake and frowned. Even if it had been quite some time, he could recognise the castle they were in, if not the room. Starfall. Huh. He had been asleep for a bit longer than a few days if they had made it from King’s Landing all the way to Starfall. And it had probably been a complicated exit, what the low throb on the side of head reinforced.

He was lying on one side of a large four-poster bed. The purple drapes were fallen, but made of such a light and ethereal material that they were unable to hide the outside world, so he could see the golden blaze of early sunrise slowly lighting the room. Silver lifted his head from where it lay on Ned’s knee and the man chuckled, raising his hand to scratch between the wolf’s ears. He heard soft breathing and looked to his side, smiling at seeing his beautiful wife. She wasn’t lying down properly, rather was sitting up against the pillows, as if she had intended to guard his sleep but had succumbed to her own exhaustion halfway through the night.

His frown deepened: she was wearing purple again — what she hadn’t done since leaving the North — and there was the Dayne falling star and white sword embroidered right next to a grey direwolf on her dress. Whatever had happened, she had either decided the secret wasn’t worth keeping anymore or they had been discovered.

“Ashara?” He extended his hand to her and pulled hers to squeeze.

She stiffened and stirred and blinked owlishly, seeming to take a moment to realise he was awake and staring at her — in the light of the rising sun and against all the colour from her dress and the drapes, her eyes seemed even more purple than he remembered.

“Thank the gods! You’re awake!” she said, throwing herself over his chest on a tight hug. Ned hugged her back for a long while until she broke apart, her eyes glistening with tears. “You have to stop doing this to me!”

“I promise to try,” he said and smiled weakly. His voice was rough and stiff from disuse, so she reached to the bedside table on her side to grab him a cup of water he drank more than gratefully. “What happened? The children are all here and safe, aren’t them?”

“Of course they are,” she reassured him with a smile of her own. “I made sure they were all on their way to the ship before I went back for you. I knew you would try to do something silly to draw Cersei’s attention from the harbour, I just didn’t think you’d go as far as telling the whole Court that Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella were not Robert’s children.”

“I ran out of ideas.” He shrugged and she glared at him. “I remember the gold cloaks and then a Kingsguard came and…” He took his hand to where he still felt the throbbing, feeling it tender but the cut already scarred and healed. “What happened?”

“What happened, my silly, stubborn, and honourable wolf, is that Cersei ordered your arrest for treason. I got there as the gold cloaks were dragging you out of the throne room, dangling from their arms and blood gushing from your head. I tried to procrastinate by questioning Cersei, but everyone had heard your accusations and no one was stepping forward. So I caused a distraction, Alyn and Silver got you from the gold cloaks, and we ran for our lives.”

“You managed to outrun the gold cloaks?” he asked, amazed and amused.

“I know a lot of secret passages in the Red Keep — not the servant’s passages, truly secret passages. They’re locked to the outside of the castle, but shortly after their wedding, Rhaegar gave me and Elia master keys to the castle and the walls of the city. I knew better than to let go of it, so I put it to good use. We made it to the ship and, since we knew the Northern ships had to have been delayed for a reason, and that Cersei’s raven would arrive before we did, Lord Manderly suggested and I agreed that turning North would be turning into an ambush. So we turned south.”

“I love that you never cease to amaze me, my beautiful, genius, and resourceful star.”

She chuckled and gladly let him pull her down into a soft kiss.

“How is your head?” she asked once they broke apart.

“Fine. I guess I was asleep at least for a fortnight if we made it to Starfall.”

She scoffed. “A fortnight would have saved me a fortnight of wrinkles of worry,” she muttered. “Ned, you’ve been sleeping for a moon turn. Well, thirty-two bloody long days, to be exact. Maester Byren said that while your head was too hard and thick to crack, there was some swelling inside, so you would sleep until your brain healed.”

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“When you accused Cersei in front of the whole Court, you knew you were forfeiting your life, Ned. You knew she would have your head. And you did it anyway. You can’t tell me you didn’t mean to worry me when you knew your actions were likely to lead me to _mourn_ you.”

“I needed to buy you time to get out of the city.”

She huffed. “I thought we had agreed that you would come with us!”

“Cersei wasn’t going to let us. She called me to Court because she knew we had a ship departing North with some of our household and she wanted to make sure we wouldn’t be on it. She said she would send people to the Tower, to fetch you, because ‘Lady Stark should be attending Court as well’. So I knew the guard would either catch you as you tried to leave or find the Tower empty and sound the alarm. I told you that if the price of saving you and the children was my life, I would not hesitate.”

“Of course not.” She sighed, all the fight going out of her. She couldn’t judge him, when she would have done the exact same thing if she were in his place. “Can we agree on no more heroics, please?”

“Cersei won’t let it go, Ash. We are out of King’s Landing, but she will have branded me a traitor. We are at war.”

“I know that. But can you please stop thinking that your life is not worth saving? If not for me, for our children. They deserve a father growing up. Don’t deny them that.”

He snorted. “You don’t play fair.”

“All is fair in love and war, my wolf.” She smiled and pecked his lips, then rested their foreheads together, simply breathing together, no longer scared shitless that his eyes were closed forever.

“You look like you haven’t slept in thirty-two days, love,” Ned whispered a while later, when he was sitting up better and Ashara had nestled against his chest.

“You don’t get to bloody judge me, stubborn fool,” she mumbled, nearly asleep already, her mind finally at ease.

He only chuckled, slowly trying to pull the last few pins that held her already loosened braids together. By the time he had managed to unlace the ties of her corset, she was heavily asleep. He only held her, cherishing this moment, thinking that he had indeed come all too close to never having this again.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tywin Lannister hated the Riverlands. He had never cared much for it, considering it as no more than passage between the Westerlands and King’s Landing. But now he understood why they had never been a sovereign kingdom, first being under the Storm Kings and then the Kings of the Isles and Rivers. A bunch of old, softheaded, useless lords. No wonder Hoster Tully had bargained off his daughters in exchange of support — support he hadn’t managed to properly give, because his bannermen respected his authority so much that half of them didn’t answer the summons or simply arrived late. Because the Lord of Riverrun at least had the sense to know he needed allies if he wanted to survive.

But now, as Tywin advanced down the Goldroad with his company, his patience ran shorter. Obviously, news of Robert’s death and Tommen’s ascension had spread, because the smallfolk gathered on the sides of the road to watch them pass. Always silent, never cheering. He wouldn’t have cared one bit about it — who did they think they were to even look at him — if it weren’t the third time in so many days that his retinue had to halt because a bloody farmer was crossing the road with his bloody cattle.

“Clegane!” Tywin called and the knight — who had been wisely keeping to ride a few horses behind him like a kicked dog — trotted up to him. “Take as many men as you deem necessary and kindly inform the farmer that if I can’t continue my journey right now, my soldiers will have plenty of beef to eat as we ride on to the capital.”

The Mountain nodded and called a few more men before riding ahead to the wandering cows. Tywin smiled in satisfaction, but before Clegane had spoken more than a few words to the farmer, one of his lieutenants rode up with a guard.

“Message from Lord Kevan, milord.”

“Oh, what now,” Tywin muttered, but took the letter.

 

> _My dear brother,_
> 
> _We have laid siege to Riverrun, but this afternoon I parleyed with Lord Edmure, son and heir to Lord Tully, who has assured me that House Tully has cut all ties with Septa Catelyn and, ‘whatever her actions’, she had undertaken them without knowledge or support from Riverrun. He also claims to be ignorant of her whereabouts, as well as Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime’s._
> 
> _This does go on pair with what my scouts gathered: neither Catelyn Tully, nor Tyrion or Jaime were seen west of the Trident. I doubt she would go North — Eddard Stark might be a fool, but he is not stupid enough to allow her actions. Besides, Moat Cailin belongs to Lord Stark’s eldest son by his new wife, so I doubt Septa Catelyn would cross it. The other option would be the Eyrie, which her mad sister holds. The good news is that Lord Baelish should be able to run interference. The bad is that the Eyrie is impregnable._
> 
> _I await your instructions on how I should proceed, but the siege to Riverrun remains in place._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Lord Kevan of House Lannister_

 

“Fetch me parchment, quill, ink, and somewhere to write on!” Tywin called to his squire.

The most obvious call would be, obviously, to keep the siege. Riverrun would hold, but wouldn’t be able to beat them back. Also, the riverlords were not united enough to present a challenge to twenty thousand Lannister men. But if the Northerners joined them… Ned Stark had had to flee the capital in account of whatever squabble he and Cersei had gotten into, so it was not unreasonable to imagine the Northerners were marching south. And whatever had happened to Catelyn Tully, Hoster Tully was Robb Stark’s grandfather and that was a bond neither of them would deny. So if the North marched south and came to Riverrun to aid them… well, he was confident in his men, obviously, but there would be a much easier and less risky way.

 

> _My dear brother,_
> 
> _Parley with Edmure Tully again. Tell him that the Lannister army will break the siege on Riverrun, since we trust their word that they gave no support to this mad woman. However, as you march to the capital, you **will** escort Lord Edmure and his very small retinue to swear allegiance to King Tommen. To refuse allegiance will, obviously, brand them as traitors to the crown and therefore warrant the maintenance of the siege._
> 
> _I trust you, brother,_
> 
> _Lord Tywin of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, and Warden of the West_

 

There would be no need for clearer words, Tywin knew. Kevan was smart and resourceful, someone he knew he could trust with this matter. His brother would understand that Edmure Tully would be their hostage against Catelyn Tully — and Lysa Arryn as well, if the stupid woman had indeed taken his sons to the Eyrie.

Also, with no siege on Riverrun, if the Starks were marching south, then they wouldn’t turn west to help the Tullys, but would continue further south to face the bulk of the Lannister forces rather than a split contingent — there was strength in numbers. Besides, with Edmure Tully as their guest in the Red Keep, it was one less ally the Starks could draw to their side.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Even if Ned had noticed that Ashara was tired, he hadn’t truly understood how much until it was midmorning and Maester Byren came into the room. The man walked inside unconcerned, even humming quietly, carrying his bag of tools, but froze a few steps from the door, looking down and flushing bright red.

“I am terribly sorry, my lord, I merely meant to check on your well-being this morning.”

“It is perfectly fine, Maester,” Ned said. Though they were fully dressed, Ashara was still spread over his chest and sleeping fast, not a position for company. “If you would give me a moment.”

The Maester nodded, awkwardly turning away from them, and Ned lifted her upper body, trying to get out of the way and biting back his chuckles as Silver went to the other side of the bed and pushed pillows under her head with his snout.

“Thank you, boy,” Ned whispered, though she didn’t even stir with the movement. He got out of the bed as carefully as he could, though his limbs were very stiff from disuse. Silver brought the cane over and he chuckled, scratching between his ears. “Are you going to stay?” Ned asked quietly. The direwolf looked at the woman sleeping on the bed, but walked away in the direction of the maester. “I trust there is somewhere we can speak that will not disturb Lady Stark.”

“The solar is right through there, my lord.” The Maester pointed to a door. “Please, do not push yourself, my lord, you have been asleep for a whole moon turn.”

“So I’ve been told,” Ned grumbled and started in the indicated direction.

Each step was a trial on his unused limbs, and the thigh the red cloak had injured was not completely healed yet, though the pain was nearly gone. Silver hovered nearby — and Ned guessed he would try to catch him if he fell — but they made it to the solar without incident and the man gladly lowered himself onto an armchair.

“How is your head this morning?” Maester Byren asked, coming closer to look at it.

“Fine,” Ned said, earning himself a disbelieving look from the other. “It is throbbing very slightly, but it doesn’t actually hurt. It’s more like a scar that itches as the wound closes up.”

“I see…” The man poked and looked at the already closed and scarred wound on the outside. “Well, my lord, head injuries are still mysterious even to us at the Citadel, since they are so varied and, unlike what happens on the outside, we have no way of seeing how the inside of your head heals. You have been asleep for a worrying and very long time, but you don’t seem affected — well, other than visible weight loss and pallor, which I trust will be easily rectified now that you’re awake. Other than checking for symptoms such as confusion, dizziness, headaches, and memory loss, there is not much to be done. Now, I trust your limbs are not very cooperative?”

“As you said, Maester, it will be easily rectified now that I will be moving again.”

“Well, I certainly hope so. Though I do wonder about your leg, the one injured before, I mean.”

Ned clenched his jaw, but knew better than to lie to a maester. At least one caring for his health. “Well, it’s not back to normal. But I can walk without any more pain than the stiffness the other one is also experiencing.”

“I see. The spear did not break the bone, my lord, as I told you in King’s Landing, but it was no small injury. I don’t believe it will affect your ability to walk, though you may feel it different than it was before.”

“I’m a soldier, Maester, I know battle scars.”

“Of course, my lord. I would say move around as you will — carefully, if you would — and don’t try to push yourself too far, my lord. Your muscles have not been put to use in a moon turn, don’t ask too much of them or there might be permanent damage. And do tell me immediately if you do feel any confusion, dizziness, headaches, and memory loss. Those we can only try to fix if we act early.”

“Thank you, Maester, I will be careful.”

“Do send for me if you need, my lord. But if you are well, I must see to the King.”

“The King?” Ned asked, frowning.

“King Robert.” Maester Byren blushed. “I do apologise if I overstepped, my lord, I had thought Lady Stark would have told you.”

“She was too tired, she only assured me the children were fine before she fell asleep.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I… You see, my lord, Lord Varys smuggled King Robert out of the Red Keep and Lady Stark brought them with us. He has been awake for a few days already, but the infection has spread to a point that… well, I don’t believe he will last much longer.” Ned nodded, taking a deep breath. “If you will forgive my meddling, my lord, but Bertha and Lady Wynafryd just took the children out to the gardens. I would strongly advise against so many flights of stairs.”

Ned could admit — at least to himself — that he was stubborn, but only the walk here had shown him his body was not ready for stairs, much less several flights of them.

“And where is the King?”

“Just down the corridor, my lord. Lord Dayne said that regardless of circumstances, Robert Baratheon was king for two decades and was owed the respect.”

Ned nodded. “It seems I have indeed chosen a good groom to my daughter.” He exhaled. “If you would lead the way, Maester.”

Ned limped after the man, feeling his joints and muscles ache, but unwilling to stay abed any longer. He waited in the shadows of the doorway as the maester worked and stepped back to the corridor as the healer came out.

“How is he?”

“In his last few breaths, my lord. I don’t know what was given to him in the Red Keep, but he was also asleep until well after we arrived here. But the wound to his belly, while it didn’t damage his insides too much, was too large and festered despite my best efforts. His blood is poisoned. He won’t survive more than a few days now. Best say your goodbyes.”

Ned nodded and made his way into the bedchamber, though Silver was clearly displeased.  Robert wasn’t lying on the bed, calling for milk of the poppy, as Ned expected, as he had been in that afternoon he had Ned write his will and testament in the Red Keep. The man was sitting on an armchair facing the window and the Summer Sea beyond it.

“Robert?”

He turned around and Ned never thought he would see such emptiness and even sadness in his face. But it was more than sadness. It was something deeper, something that reached all the way down into his soul, taking the light right out of his no longer bright blue eyes.

“You’re awake, then,” the fallen king said in a despondent voice. “Well, I am glad. Even if you have betrayed me in the lowest manner.”

_Oh, no, she didn’t!_ Ned thought. “What do you mean?” he asked in turn.

“Your wife didn’t tell you?”

“She is sleeping. We haven’t talked much yet. The Maester said he was coming to you and I joined him.”

“To see me dying? To see your sister’s last words brought to life in front of you?” Robert scoffed. “She was right, in the end, I must admit. There was no joy in that fucking throne.”

Ned closed his eyes and cursed mentally. He should have guessed Ashara’s hatred of Robert would result in this when she no longer needed to hide who she was. Not that it meant he enjoyed it any more.

“Robert, I don’t know…”

“I told you, ever since I went to Winterfell, I told you that you were the only person I knew I could trust, Ned,” he said and the Northerner was shocked at the sheer vulnerability in his voice. “We grew up together. I loved you more than I ever loved Stannis or Renly. And even you betrayed me.”

“And how did I betray you? By concealing a truth you wouldn’t believe? By preventing you from killing people who were only guilty of loving people you hated?”

“Oh, you helped her fake her death because you loved her, you helped her big brother because you loved her! But you looked into my eyes and told me Lyanna had died of a fever! And you LIED! She died giving birth to that demon’s son! And you lied and you lied to me about who the boy was!”

“What did you expect, Robert? That I would tell you that Lyanna didn’t love you, that she loved Rhaegar, that she had married him, that she had birthed his son and heir? And after I saw what had happened to Rhaegar’s other children? You would not have believed they had been married, you would have yelled out that Rhaegar had raped a child into her belly and would have had Jon murdered. So yes, I lied. I lied to save my nephew, my son. I do not regret it, nor will I ever. I would protect him no matter what, my promise to Lyanna, to honour her last wish, was merely extra motivation.”

“You hid a fucking dragonspawn under your wolf clothing. You let me betroth him to the other blasted dragonspawn—”

“If you would recall, I was against that idea.”

“But you allowed it anyway, Lord Stark!”

“And how could I refuse without arising suspicion, tell me! When I had arrived in the capital with a bastard son and Lyanna’s bones and anyone could deduce the truth if they thought hard enough? I would never allow you to harm any babe in front of me, much less my son’s aunt. So yes, I allowed their betrothal and I brought them both to be raised in safety in Winterfell. Hate me for it if you will, I will never regret it.”

“You lied to your King. You lied to me and then looked me in the eye and called me friend. You lied to my face and let me call you brother. You have no honour.”

“I would have no honour if I had delivered Jon’s head to you on a silver platter. I was your friend, despite the atrocity you allowed Tywin Lannister to get away with. I served you to the best of my ability—”

“You took the realm to put it in order for your bloody nephew and his fucking wife! Tell me, would you have waited for me to die or would you have stepped aside and let them kill me?”

“If what I truly wanted was to unseat you, Robert, I had five years and plenty of opportunity to do so. I didn’t need to make sure your Lannister squires stopped poisoning your wine, I didn’t need to ask Ser Barristan to knight them to get them away, or ask Renly for a squire from the Stormlands so you would be safe against Lannister attacks. I could have opened the gates of the city to Jon and Daenerys years ago if I had so desired. I didn’t. Because you had once been my friend and because I had given you my word and my support to sit on the Iron Throne. Even when Joffrey nearly raped my good-daughter and attacked my daughter, I stood by you.”

“And that is supposed to mean what? That you would support me, but the moment I died you would kick Joffrey — or, as it turned out, Tommen — into the Blackwater and invite your dragons to the throne?”

Ned clenched his jaw. It seemed Ashara hadn’t thrown everything on Robert’s face after all. “If Jon and Daenerys ever wanted to fight your heir, I would support my own blood, aye.”

“Is that what you’re going to do now? Betray me in favour of dragonspawn?”

“I didn’t hear Lyanna when she said she did not want you,” Ned finally confessed. “I thought, I truly thought, that her concerns about your ability to keep to one bed were unfounded because you loved her and therefore you would never stray from her bed, would never dishonour her so. I didn’t hear her when she said that she knew you had no idea who she was, that you thought she was a silly maiden in a tower waiting for a song. I thought she would get used to you as you would get used to her. I didn’t hear my sister when she said she wanted freedom and you were an anchor. So, without any support from us, she ran away and that whole mess happened. Rhaegar was the only one who heard her. He was the one who saw that she wouldn’t be locked in a tower, that she was beautiful riding out in the open. I owe it to my sister to honour her by protecting her son, my son. And I owe it to the one man who saw her for who she was, who loved her for who she was, to honour his son and his sister.”

“I loved her,” Robert said in a weak whisper.

And now Ned snorted. “You loved the idea of her, Robert.”

“I loved her! She was sweet and delicate and mine!”

“She wasn’t. Lyanna was sweet, yes, but she was far from delicate. She was like a winter storm: beautiful to behold, difficult to withstand, impossible to tame. On the way south, I told you, you never knew Lyanna. You saw her beauty, never the iron underneath.” He scoffed. “You once spoke of how Lyanna would never defy you openly and shame you publicly like Cersei did. It shows you never knew her: she would question your every decision, not caring who heard it. She would _never_ sit in a castle embroidering and teaching your daughters. She would pick up a bloody sword and teach them how to wield it. You would never be happy with her.”

“You lied to me for twenty years,” Robert said, conveniently ignoring all he had just said.

“No, Robert. You lied to yourself for nearly twenty-five. You wanted Lyanna and damn the rest. And it was only when she was no longer there for you that you began to yell to the seven winds that you loved her. But you didn’t. If you loved her, you wouldn’t sleep with half the women in the Riverlands while you fought a war in her name.”

“I’m not as prudish as you are!”

“It’s not about prudery, Robert, that’s what you can’t understand. When you truly love a woman, you don’t feel like sleeping with every tavern wench who serves you a tankard of ale.”

“Is that why you didn’t sleep with whores in the Rebellion? Because you loved Ashara? Well, nice job in marrying Catelyn, then!”

Ned sighed. “I did what I had to do to honour an alliance my father had brokered and earn the support you needed to fight. I never strayed from Catelyn’s bed because I had given her my word and I take that seriously. But I cannot say that I never thought of Ashara even when Catelyn was the one next to me. Even sixteen years after we parted ways, I still remembered every line of her smile, every speck of colour in her shining purple eyes. By your own admission, you don’t remember what Lyanna looked like. That’s not love, Robert, it’s ownership.”

“So I didn’t know how to love your sister and I don’t know how to love my children.” Robert snorted. “With a friend like you, why would I need enemies?”

“You’re afraid of love, Robert. I don’t know if it was your parents’ death or your difficult relationship with Stannis and Renly, but you never allowed yourself to love another person. You clung to the idea of Lyanna to keep Cersei away, you kept the children away, barely visiting them.”

“I loved you! And you betrayed me!”

“By not telling you that the woman you so claimed to love didn’t care one bit about you? By letting you live happily without that over your head? By not allowing you to murder an innocent baby, blameless of who his parents were? Aye, I’m such a monster!” Ned exhaled. “I did lie to you. I lied to you to protect you from the pain you would feel at learning Lyanna loved Rhaegar. I lied to you to protect my son. If that was a sin, I fully confess to it and accept my punishment. And I tell you that if I could go back and do it all differently, the only thing I would change is taking Lyanna’s side when she said she wouldn’t marry you. But I trusted you loved her, I trusted my best friend would honour my sister and make her happy, so I did nothing. And she ran away and I lost her, and Brandon, and my father because of a series of lies and stupid decisions from too many people. That is the one regret I will carry with me to my grave.”

He picked up his cane and leaned heavily on it as he left the room. The weight of the lie was off his shoulders and he found he had nothing else to say.

Robert only watched him walk away, until he walked right out of his sightline. He turned back to the window, even sadder and more despondent than he had been before Ned had come into the room. A lone tear escaped unbidden before he could stop it.

Twenty years ago, Robert Baratheon had led a rebellion against House Targaryen. He had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen’s chest with his hammer, feeling sick and twisted pleasure as he watched blood and rubies fall from the Prince’s chest as the loser fell onto the river, life going out of him. Robert had taken Rhaegar’s crown, his throne, his home, his life.

But in the end, Rhaegar had been the victor of the duel. Robert had gone on to live and to rule and had felt his very world crumbling around him. No loving wife, no sons to be proud of, only disappointments. All he had was a heavy crown, a stiff seat, and cold duty. Rhaegar had won the love of the lady, the son and heir to be proud of, a whole brood of grandchildren to perpetuate his name. Rhaegar had fought, Rhaegar had died, but Rhaegar had won.

The gods were sick and cruel bastards, ever so fond of their jokes.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

With Clegane and a handful of men riding ahead and discouraging cattle crossing, their way down the road was much faster and less tumultuous. That did not mean Tywin’s mood improved any, as every day that passed was one more day that he hadn’t gotten his hands around Catelyn Tully’s neck. Or the equivalent. They had left the Riverlands behind, finally, crossing the border into the Crownlands when a messenger from King’s Landing rode up.

“Message from the Grand Maester, milord.”

Mentally cursing, wondering ‘what now’, Tywin took the envelope and ripped it open.

 

> _My dear Lord Lannister,_
> 
> _If you would forgive my meddling, but I would suggest you ride to the capital as fast as you possibly can. Queen Cersei took the throne in King Tommen’s name and the Starks left, so we face no strong opposition, but I am afraid the news are not good._
> 
> _You see, we have received word from Dragonstone that a man claiming to be Aegon Targaryen, son of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia, has defeated the Lannister fleet, the Baratheons, and taken the castle. We have received no ransom request, not even confirmation of King Tommen and Princess Myrcella’s well-being, but we were assured Lord Stannis was no more._
> 
> _Also, I worry for the Queen. In her grief, and in the terrible state of concern she has been for Ser Jaime’s disappearance, she has placed the blame on the High Septon, claiming he was the one who set Septa Catelyn loose. I tried to dissuade her of any harsh measures, but she was deaf to my advice. The man was tried before Court and found guilt, being executed shortly thereafter. As you can imagine, my lord, it was not a popular decision amongst the lords and ladies, and much worse with the smallfolk. The Faith is not happy with the Crown, not happy at all. And I am afraid Queen Cersei listens to no one._
> 
> _Ever your servant,_
> 
> _Grand Maester Pycelle_

 

Feeling his blood boiling with anger and cursing hot-headed daughters in his mind, Tywin folded and letter and put it in his pocket to keep it from prying eyes.

“You, messenger, ride ahead as fast as you can and tell the Grand Maester that I am riding as fast as I possibly can and that he is free to calm down nerves as he sees fit.” The boy nodded, bowed his head, took the small parcel one of the guards offered, then turned his horse and cantered away. “Now we are riding hard as well. How fast can we make it to the capital?” Tywin asked his lieutenant.

“If we ride hard, my lord, six, maybe five days. At the pace we are now, likely eight.”

“Then let’s ride hard. If we make it in five, the men get two days off, if we make it in six, they get patrol duty on the city walls.”

Needless to say, the prospect of two days free of work was a very good incentive to the men, who returned to the march with renewed enthusiasm. Tywin only hoped Pycelle had enough sweetsleep to keep Cersei contained until he arrived.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned was apprehensive as he walked down the hall, but also curious. It had been a couple days since his unfortunate talk with Robert, days filled with worry over the general state of the realm and indulging his children in playing with them as much as possible. With Robb leading the Northern army south and Jon and Daenerys returning west, there was very little to conjecture and plan. Well, for him, since he wasn’t meddling in the wedding preparations.

He had regretted that Sansa wouldn’t be able to marry in Winterfell, or at least the Sept of Baelor, but this was war, and though he knew that Edric wouldn’t condition his support to the realisation of the alliance, he had to agree with Ashara and Varys that this alleged Aegon Targaryen posed a new difficulty and that they couldn’t leave Edric and House Dayne vulnerable by turning against Sunspear without a very strong reason.

He was walking better now, though he had reluctantly not gotten rid of the cane, unless he was moving around their chambers, which were small enough to not overtire him. Ashara was still a bit cold and hurt that he had been upset that she had thrown the truth in Robert’s face, saying she only spoke the truth and the truth is better than a sugary lie. Though Ned couldn’t disagree on that point, he had reminded her Robert was about to die and he should have died in peace. She had snorted, said Robert didn’t deserve peace, and said she only made sure Lyanna and Elia were avenged. And that she had kept the secret on the children’s paternity, though she had been itching to throw in his face the truth about Cersei’s revenge against his abuse.

But now, after a couple of days, Robert had requested an audience. Ned had been startled, as he didn’t expect the former king would ever want to speak to him again, much less ask as politely as Maester Byren reported he did. So, against Ashara’s protests, Ned decided to go. Robert was now lying on the bed, pale and sweating, and the Northerner could see what the maester had meant about deteriorating conditions.

“I wasn’t sure you would come after our last conversation,” Robert croaked weakly. Ned went to a chair on the side of the bed, terribly sad with the sight. The other man had once been so strong, so virile, so… and now he was less than a husk, a shadow of that.

“The Maester said you requested it and I saw no reason to deny you.”

Robert laughed, which turned into a dry cough. “I tried for years to call for you and you never came. Should’ve gotten close to death before, it seems.”

“Don’t joke about that, Robert, please. I never wished you ill.”

“I know. That I believe, easily. But I’m dying now. Honestly, I don’t know how I held on this far. I suppose I made it on the strength of hate. But I don’t have the will even for that now. No short temper, no killing spree. No reason to live, only sadness and disappointment. What a sorry bastard I’ve become, eh!”

“Robert…”

“No, no, let me speak. If I make it past today, I ain’t making it past tomorrow. We’ve seen enough of war to know what this fucking smell is. When Ella— I mean, Ashara, when she told me the truth, when she told me Lyanna’s last words I didn’t believe her. And when I did, I hated you for it. But now I have a question, and I want you to answer honestly — and remember I cannot do anything about it.”

“I promise,” Ned said, dreading the direction this was going.

“Does the dragon— does Jon know?”

“He does now, he learnt in Volantis. But not before.”

Robert snorted and sneezed at once. “Well, then, you lied to him. For how truthful you lot like to be, I’m sure that won’t be nice to make up for.”

“What is it you want, Robert? Ask senseless questions about my relationship to my son?”

“How do you do it? How do you stuff your chest and is so proud to call him son when it was another man who sired him?”

“Rhaegar might have sired him, Lyanna might have birthed him, but I am the one who raised him. I am the one who taught him to be a man, the one who was always there for him. Of course he is my son. Was that your question?”

“No, actually, it wasn’t. I got distracted. When Ashara said that I never saw a son of my blood grow up, what did she mean?”

“She said that?” Ned asked with a frown. She had told him she hadn’t.

“She was repeating Ly— your sister’s words. Did she mean what I think she did?”

“Why are you asking me this on your deathbed?”

“Because I think I always knew and tried to convince myself otherwise because it was better. Did you know that Jon Arryn would tell me of my bastards? I remember Mya, the girl from the Vale. I saw her when she was a babe, but she was like me, black hair and blue eyes. Edric Storm, the one fostering with Stannis, well, everyone says he looks just like the Demon of the Trident. And Jon Arryn tracked down at least eight in King’s Landing. All of them were the same and they giggled when I held them. Joffrey only cried until I put him down, the annoying brat. So tell me. Because I think you know and I think you’re still protecting me from it, damn you!”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because when I asked you to write down my will, you wrote ‘my rightful heir’ and not Tommen as I had dictated. When we talked the other day, you once again said that you would side with the dragons against ‘my heir’. You never said my heir was Tommen. Because he isn’t, is he?”

“Legally, yes, he is.”

“What means that he actually isn’t.” Robert succumbed to another bout of cough. “They were always too much like Cersei, too much lion.” He snorted. “You didn’t tell me because you wanted their heads in place, didn’t you?”

“I don’t care, nor did I ever, about what happens to Cersei’s head. Especially now. But children are innocent, Robert.”

“You have to stop thinking like that, you know. Children grow up to take up arms against you. And unless you _kill_ those children, your precious boy and his wife will never be safe in their throne. There will be enough people to believe they are mine and then… well, as long as they live, they will be a sword over your son’s head. And you are enough of an honourable fool that you will keep them alive, just so they can threaten your boy. People like war, Ned. And war is an ugly business.”

“There is war and there is slaughter. You could never see the difference between the two.”

“Or perhaps you were the one who never understood that one death may save thousands.”

Ned exhaled. “I couldn’t change your opinion after the Rebellion, I won’t keep trying now. You need to find peace, Robert.”

“I tried to be a lord and I was shit at it; I tried to be a king and I was shit at it. I was never cut out to responsibility. I was cut out for war. I was a soldier.”

“So was I, Robert. So was I.”

“Nah, you weren’t. Your father tried, though. Because Brandon was the eldest and you were the second, he tried to turn Brandon into the lord and you into the soldier. You can fight, Ned, but you can’t be happy in war. You can take a keep, a city, and rule. But the realm is at war again, Ned. You’re going to need to get over yourself.”

Before Ned could interject, Robert coughed again, black blood coming out of his mouth and nose, and when he relaxed again against the pillows, his eyes were staring unseeing into the canopy.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany get more news from the west and Arthur has a surprise

The sun was barely peeking out of the sea when Arthur made his way down the corridor below decks of the _Wintersong_. He had been jolted awake by a beak against the small window of his cabin and then couldn’t get out of bed fast enough.

“I know it’s a dumb question, but are they awake?” he asked Orys, who stood guard outside the main cabin.

“If they are, my lord, it’s because they haven’t fallen asleep yet.”

“Fools in love, like newlyweds,” Arthur muttered and knocked on the door. “Your Graces! I must speak with you!”

After a few more knocks, they heard noises from inside and finally Jon opened the door, a robe hastily wrapped around himself, his hair sticking in all directions, and his face frowning in sleep. “Wha’? Wha’ ist?”

“We need to talk,” Arthur repeated, showing the letter.

Jon blinked the sleep away, then turned inside for a moment before opening the door. The knight went in and closed it behind himself.

“What is it, Arthur?” Daenerys asked.

“They made it safely to Starfall.”

The two monarchs sighed in relief. “But this is wonderful!” Dany said. Then she frowned. “Why are you not smiling, Arthur?”

“Dragonstone was taken and Stannis is dead.”

“Tha’s no’ mu’ suprisin’,” Jon grumbled sleepily, going to the wash stand to throw some water on his face.

“It wasn’t taken by the Lannisters. It was taken by someone calling himself Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar and Elia.”

“Well, that is surprising,” Dany said. Jon only stood, shocked. Was it really his brother? “Do we know if it is truly my nephew or if it is a pretender?”

“That means I’m not actually the heir,” Jon said.

“I wouldn’t go that far yet,” Arthur said. “We know nothing of this man, we don’t know, we _can’t_ know if his claim is true. What I do know is that Elia would save _both_ children, not just the one.”

“So Rhaenys is alive too?”

“No, apparently only this alleged Aegon. And that, in my eyes, only tells me that he is indeed a pretender.”

“How do we know?” Dany asked. “We must be certain.”

“Well—” Arthur started.

“I won’t fight my own brother,” Jon said. “Even if we grew up apart, he is still my brother and I will not fight him.”

“There is a simple enough test for that,” Arthur said. “Dany, you birthed the dragons and bonded with all three of them because of it, though you said your bond with Balerion is developing further. Jon, you and Rhaegal bonded in the very moment you met. There is still one riderless dragon.”

“Not every Targaryen was a dragonrider, Arthur. I won’t fight my brother based on chance.”

“Look, all we have are conjectures now,” the knight said. “There is no way we can… I don’t know, test his blood, compare it to yours or something to see if you are indeed half-brothers. What I do know — and my sister already hinted that she shares my opinion — is that Rhaenys would hide in Rhaegar’s chambers every time she was afraid or had a nightmare. Whether he was there or travelling, she always did that. With the castle being sacked, I could bet that she ran and hid under Rhaegar’s bed until he would come and call her out from under there.”

“He had been dead a fortnight by the time the Sack happened,” Dany reminded softly.

“I know that. But first, we don’t know if Elia or Aerys told them about the Trident, and secondly, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have changed her ways that quickly. She was four, death was still too abstract for her.”

As the parents of a four-year-old girl, Jon and Dany could agree with that.

“From what Barristan told me,” Arthur continued, “Elia and Aegon had never left the Maidenvault before the Mountain…” he clenched his jaw to keep in his anger. “The Maidenvault doesn’t have secret passages — trust me, I’ve looked for them in every nook and cranny. But the Holdfast does — a lot of people know that, that Maegor killed the architects and builders of the Red Keep to maintain the secret within the family. There was one set of dusty blueprints in the inner vault of Dragonstone that Rhaegar and I spent quite a lot of time memorising and we told Elia and Ashara where the passages were, Rhaegar gave us keys for those. Rhaegar knew who his father was, he knew that at any given point the Mad King could simply be too put out at Elia’s ‘Dornishness’. There is one way in and one way out of the Maidenvault — which is why Cersei thought she’d manage to keep Ashara and Sansa there until Catelyn delivered Jaime and Tyrion — so the possibility of smuggling a crying baby out of there was near to none. And trust me, Aegon was a crying baby, and a loud one at that. If anyone was smuggled out, it would have been Rhaenys. There was an entrance to the passages in Rhaegar’s chambers, that’s why he changed to them once we found the blueprints, leaving his old ones for Viserys. If someone would take a child without Elia knowing, they would have gotten Rhaenys, there was no way to get to Aegon. And Elia would save both, never only one. Besides, the only way to keep Aegon from crying his lungs out was to have him by Elia’s side, and all accounts tell that the Mountain ripped Aegon from his mother’s arms. She would know if she was holding her son or not.”

“But what if Elia gave Aegon away and went back for Rhaenys?” Dany asked.

“Wouldn’t work,” Arthur said. “The safest way out of the castle would have been the secret passages, so Elia would have shown whoever was doing the smuggling to the Holdfast or there’s another entrance a few corridors away from the throne room. Simple logistics would have kept her from trying the one downstairs, so she would have gone to the Holdfast, to the one in Rhaegar’s chambers. She would have to have passed by Rhaenys to see Aegon gone in safety and Elia would _never_ let Aegon go and keep Rhaenys behind. If it was the other way around, if Rhaenys had been in the Maidenvault and Elia and Aegon in the Holdfast, then I can see her giving Aegon away to safety as she went after Rhaenys and shit happening in between, but from where they were, it’s simply impossible.”

Jon didn’t seem very convinced and started to pace around the cabin. Dany scratched her forehead for a moment, thinking.

“Considering for a moment — just for the sake of argument — that this man is indeed Aegon Targaryen, my nephew, and that he was smuggled to safety. Where was he? Who was he with? Why did he never show up before now? He must be twenty-two now, mustn’t he?”

“Twenty-three — he was born three moons before Harrenhall. What was one of the reasons Rhaegar and Elia were so furious with each other during the tourney: the Mad King decreed they would all go, but the children would stay with Queen Rhaella and Viserys in King’s Landing. Elia wanted to stay, because Aegon was so little, but there was no changing Aerys’ mind once he had made a decision. She was furious Rhaegar did nothing, even if deep down she knew Rhaegar couldn’t do anything, even though he wanted to.”

“So, a twenty-three-year-old man, why wait this long?” Dany asked. “Who raised him, where, and who is supporting him now? Because he must have an army if he took Dragonstone and intends to take the throne.”

“We don’t know his reasons for waiting this long,” Arthur answered. “And Ashara says Varys is still collecting more information. But we do know that he went over to Westeros with Jon Connington.”

“And who is Jon Connington?” Jon asked.

“Besides the most annoying prick in the Known World?” Arthur rolled his eyes. “He was the Lord of Griffin’s Roost and a friend of your father’s. He was arrogant and a bit entitled, but he was a loyal friend to Rhaegar.” He snorted. “Some say that perhaps even too loyal. Anyway, he always detested Elia, saying she didn’t have what it took to be Rhaegar’s wife, let alone the next queen. In the middle of the Rebellion, when we were already in Dorne, Aerys named Connington his Hand and sent him to lead a host after Robert, who was hiding in the Stony Sept to recover and heal the wounds Randyll Tarly had given him in Ashford. Connington wanted the glory of killing Robert himself, so he dallied too long in a house-by-house search, until Ned and Hoster Tully arrived and won the Battle of the Bells. Aerys then exiled Connington for his failure and gave his lands to his cousin. A few years after the Rebellion, Connington was said to have drunk himself to death in Essos — what I never believed, he was too much of a narcissist for that — and that was the last I heard of him. I suppose now that he faked his death, like Ashara and I did, so that Robert wouldn’t send anyone after him and therefore he could raise this boy in safety.”

“Why would the Usurper send assassins after a lord that had been exiled even before the Rebellion was over? One exiled by my grandfather?”

“Because Connington was a very close friend of Rhaegar’s. You still don’t understand the level of hatred the Usurper felt for your father, Jon.” He scoffed. “Ever since the early days of the Targaryen dynasty, the heir to the throne is named the Prince of Dragonstone. That sometimes is considered more important than the succession through the bloodline. Robert hated Rhaegar enough that he abolished the title, so that there would be no more Prince of Dragonstone. He named Stannis, his heir at the time, as _Lord_ of Dragonstone, so that his son, whenever he would be born, would never hold the title Rhaegar had once held.”

“The title has nothing to do with the person,” Dany said. “That was childish of him.”

“You will hear no argument to the contrary, my queen.”

“The point,” Jon cut in, “is that we need to make sure whether this man is or isn’t my brother. Because if he is, he is older than me and by your own account, Arthur, Rhaegar made sure Aegon would be his heir even if his marriage to Elia was dissolved. So if this is the real Aegon, he is the heir to the throne, not me.”

“The Kingdoms won’t side with him, Jon,” Arthur said. “Even if you will step down, people will always be uncertain if he is indeed the real Aegon. While your identity is more than legitimate and you have the support of the Warden of the North and the last two members of the Kingsguard. Besides, you were raised in Westeros, you’ve made friends and alliances with Westerosi lords. You and Dany — a proven Targaryen herself — are married and already have three children. That is a stable and secure dynasty right there. They won’t choose the unknown, foreign contender when there is a much safer choice.”

“There is no choosing, Arthur, this is about the law—”

“If this was about the law, the Usurper would never have sat the throne, Jon, even if Father was keeping you hidden, not while Viserys and I lived. I agree with Arthur, no one in Westeros will side with this alleged Aegon and we do have a simple way to prove it.”

“What if he doesn’t bond with Rhaellion simply because they were not meant to be bonded?” Jon asked. “From everything we read, Dany, a rider can touch dozens of eggs before he finds the one that will hatch for him. A bond is developed with time Dany. And before you go there, Rhaegal was around me all the time, they were kept in our chambers. Even if I didn’t touch them all the time like you did, I was always near.”

“Sometimes dragons that had already hatched simply landed in front of their riders and chose them,” Arthur pointed out, earning himself a glare and a smile.

“Well, there is another simple test,” Dany said, standing up and going to the brazier in a corner. She picked up a burning coal and smirked.

Jon rolled his eyes and raised his right hand — the faint scar from when he had saved Lord Commander Mormont from the wight could be seen. “I burn, Dany, that is not a definite. And Viserys also burnt.”

“Maester Aemon said it was a remarkably light burn, Jon,” Arthur pointed out.

“And that was before you bonded with Rhaegal,” Dany added.

“As far as we know, Uncle Aemon hasn’t bonded with any dragons and he doesn’t burn!”

“Are you afraid to try, then?” Dany taunted, offering him the coal.

“And when I burn my hand, I’ll be the one feeling it, not you.”

“You felt the children’s eggs warm, Jon. Come on, get close and if it is too hot, you can chicken out, but if it isn’t, then you will grab it and we will have an answer.”

“It won’t change the fact that you are standing right here while Viserys’ ashes are scattered to the seven winds,” Jon pointed out.

“Viserys was too much like the Mad King, I told you,” Dany countered. “He would have ruined the Seven Kingdoms. So forgive me if I think this is actually a worthy test.”

“It really is impossible to know which one of us is the more stubborn,” Jon muttered, knowing she would keep insisting. Besides, the test would obviously fail.

He walked over to her and stretched his hand towards the coal, his muscles coiled to pull it back as soon as… Rhaegal cawed a bit from where he was lying with his brothers and Jon felt their connection flare to life in the back of his mind, just as Ghost shied away. His hand got closer to the coal and while he felt the heat, it wasn’t unbearable. Until, finally, his fingers closed around it and he took it from Dany’s hand.

“Don’t say it,” Jon muttered. He held it for a moment, then threw it back into the brazier. Dany only laughed, cleaning the soot from her hand on the washbasin, and going to the dragons. “But if I am only fireproof due to my connection to Rhaegal, then if Aegon doesn’t bond with a dragon, he won’t be.”

“As I said, all we have are conjectures now,” Arthur said. “There is a more definitive test, though, one I’m certain Connington himself will be eager to complete. There is an inner vault in Dragonstone, one that was sealed with magic before the Doom, just as the Targaryens first settled on the island. The door is made up of dragonglass, though before I saw it working against wights I didn’t understand how it had magical properties. Rhaegar told me only Targaryen blood could unlock the door, and he proved it: I tried and nothing happened. Then he did and the door opened as if it never had been locked.”

“I thought magic was dying down after the Doom,” Dany said.

“Yes, it was, or it was after the last dragon died, I’m not sure. But if the spell was made before the Doom, just after the Targaryens had arrived in Dragonstone, then there was magic involved _then_ , not now. The spell was already there, only the key is Targaryen blood. Therefore, if this man really is Aegon Targaryen…”

“Then he will be able to open this vault,” Dany deduced. “And Connington knows where it is?”

“I think so. Rhaegar once wondered if he should have told Connington, since no one was supposed to know, so I guess Connington knows.”

“If no one was supposed to know, why did my brother tell you?”

“Because I had the unfortunate duty of dogging his every step,” Arthur chuckled and they could see there was nothing unfortunate about it. “And he showed me how to open it because he was leaving Dragonstone to go and meet Lyanna, with plans to try and depose Aerys, and he said he felt like he should make sure the secret was safe if the worst should happen. Connington wasn’t at Dragonstone at the time, so I can’t tell you if he knows how to open it or not, though.” Then he snorted. “And thank the gods he wasn’t there, because if he knew Rhaegar intended to leave after Lyanna, he would have thrown a hissy fit. He was insufferable enough after the whole thing with the crown of winter roses at Harrenhall.”

“But if he disliked Princess Elia, why would he be so upset?” Dany asked.

“Connington was… well, eccentric,” Arthur said, deciding to leave it at that. “But anyway, we have nothing more than conjectures now and until we get to Westeros, that is all that we will have. But we are moving to the smaller ship to go into the Smoking Sea tomorrow morning. So there is something you should consider today.” Jon raised an eyebrow and Dany frowned, confused. “Whether he is or isn’t a pretender, he took Dragonstone and Stannis is dead,” Arthur pointed out.

“Oh.” Dany exclaimed.

“Aye, that is a big thing to consider…” Jon said.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Davos couldn’t deny that he was a bit apprehensive as he and his sons made their way from the cabin they’d been given to the command cabin. An Unsullied had just come and said the King and Queen called and, though Davos believed them to be true to their words, he did wonder what would warrant their summons, especially Mathos and Allard as well.

Jon and Daenerys were sitting at the table with Arya and Willas, Arthur, Wex, and Leeds standing guard, and again Davos couldn’t help but think that something big had happened.

“Ser Davos, please, take a seat. The two of you as well, Mathos and Allard,” Dany pointed to the three vacant seats. “We have gathered all of you here this morning because we have once again received news from Westeros and they concern us all.”

“My father, Aunt Ashara, and my siblings have arrived safely in Starfall, together with Lord Manderly, Lady Wynafryd, and Lord Lucas. Lady Wynafryd bid us to inform you, Lord Willas, that she will remain there unless she is assured that it is absolutely safe to make her way to Highgarden, as Lord Dayne has granted her hospitality.”

“Thank you, Your Grace, House Tyrell will never be able to repay the kindness.”

“Nonsense, my lord. Now, this is all the good news we have,” Dany said. “Lord Varys also informed us that Dragonstone was taken.”

Davos stiffened on his seat, too frozen to even speak. He had feared that, had wondered… with Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella there…

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” Mathos said, “but our brothers were there… you wouldn’t…”

“We are terribly sorry. We do not know, though we have requested more information.”

“The information we do have,” Jon said, “is that Lord Stannis fell with the castle.”

Davos took a moment to digest the news. “So I suppose the Lannisters took the Prince and the Princess back,” he said, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“No, actually,” Dany said. “The castle was taken by a man claiming to be Aegon Targaryen, son of my brother Rhaegar and Princess Elia Martell. We also have no information on Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella.”

“I thought that Aegon Targaryen had died in the Sack,” Arya said.

“Everyone did,” Jon said.

“Although this presents a new difficulty for us,” Dany cut in before Jon could say something else, “we cannot be sure of this man’s identity and until we can, we will make no harsh decisions. We will continue with our previous plans, as our fight with the Lannisters has not lost its cause.”

“And I suppose you would ask my support again,” Davos said.

“We cannot deny your support and allegiance would be invaluable to us, Ser Davos,” Jon said. “However, we know that, regardless of Stannis, your castle is in the Stormlands and we will most likely be fighting Renly Baratheon. Our offer to drop you and your sons in safety in Tyrosh still stands.”

Davos nodded, taking another moment to think, throwing possibilities around in his head.

“Your Graces, I was not lying or speaking lightly when I said that I think you would be good and just rulers. I have had the honour to serve you for the past four years, years in which we worked closely together, and I do stand by the thought that you would be the best choice for the Seven Kingdoms. Once the Lannisters are defeated and Prince Tommen is exposed as a bastard, Robert’s heir will, now, be Renly. But, from everything I have seen and heard from Lord Stannis, he is no fit ruler. And I owe him no fealty. So, if I would have your leave to go to the Stormlands to pick up the rest of my family, to bring them to safety, it would be my greatest honour to serve you and fight for you.”

Jon and Dany exchanged a look.

“You have our leave and one of our ships once we reach the Stepstones,” Jon said. “Your wife and sons will be most welcome in the Blessed Island.”

Davos nodded, his throat thick with emotion, and stood up to kneel before the King and Queen and swear them loyalty. When he had his sons had retaken their seats, Dany smiled again.

“Ser Davos, we took you from the command of our ships due to reasons that are now immaterial,” she said.

“And you were also not made privy to our plans any further than we intend to return to the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon continued.

“But the fact is that we are approaching the Smoking Sea now and we intend to sail it,” Dany concluded.

Davos raised an eyebrow. “No sailor with their brains about him would attempt to cross it, Your Grace. The place is said to be haunted and inhabited by krakens after the Doom. I imagine you have a good reason for making this decision.”

“A very good one,” Dany said. “And I imagine that a man who once broke through the blockade of the Redwyne fleet to bring food to a starving castle, unsure of any rewards, would enjoy a challenge.”

“The Smoking Sea is not a challenge one takes lightly, my queen,” Davos said. “But, as I said, the pair of you aren’t known to engage in folly, so I must believe that your reason is strong and true. But the sea was once a strait that grew larger when the peninsula shattered. The geography will be too dangerous for this ship. You need a smaller one, lighter and with less people, otherwise you might as well run yourselves into an abyss.”

“We imagined as much,” Jon said, “and we already have a smaller ship filled with supplies for a small group of us to make it to Volantis, where we will meet the rest of the fleet.”

“In that case, I will be honoured to be your captain,” Davos said. “And the two of you will stay on here and I will hear no more of it,” he told his sons before any sound could be uttered.

“Very well, since that is settled,” Dany said, “Lord Willas, would you like to join us or would you like command of this ship until Volantis?”

Willas shook his head, banishing his hard thinking. “The ruins of Valyria, my queen, while certainly a wonder to visit, might prove too dangerous an enterprise to a crippled man. Unless you have need of me, I shall bring the _Wintersong_ to Volantis and re-join you there.”

“Then there is only one last order of business,” Jon said. “Arya, if you would.”

The girl smiled wolfishly and stood up, opening the door and calling inside Gendry and Missandei, who had been waiting in the corridor outside.

“Now, this took a while because we urged Gendry for perfection rather than haste,” Dany said as the smith set the bundle he carried on the table. “Arthur, if you will do the honours.”

The knight frowned, wondering what they were up to with those satisfied smiles, but felt his heart fail a beat when he undid the knot and pulled the cloth away. It was the upper half of a suit of armour, made with white enamelled scales, the fastenings for the breastplate made of silver. In the centre, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen was carved.

“I had Ser Barristan describe it to me a long time ago,” Dany said. “I only didn’t know when I would be able to order it done.”

“It’s even more beautiful than the original one,” Arthur said with a thick voice.

“Well, of course it is, I was directly involved in the drawing,” Dany said and they chuckled. “Are the scales too much? I thought plain silver was boring.”

“It’s perfect, my queen.” Arthur was still touched with the gesture.

“And of course we couldn’t forget the most important,” Jon said and Missandei put her package on the table.

By the form alone, Arthur had a pretty good guess, but that didn’t mean he was any less pleased once he saw the white silk cloak. He swallowed his emotion and knelt.

“You honour me, Your Graces.”

Dany reached for the fastenings to the cloak he wore. “You have honoured us and House Targaryen with your unwavering loyalty and self-sacrifices to serve us.” She fastened the white cloak on his shoulders. “So rise, Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, Kingsguard. We are honoured to be protected by you.”

No one in the room could hide the emotion of the moment, which was why Jon soon called for the dismissal of the meeting.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Willas had spent the whole afternoon thinking, wondering ‘what would Grandmother do’, and decided he needed more information if he were to get to a concrete solution. He knew Ser Arthur had the day shift of guarding, so he waited until after dinner to invite the knight for a night cap. The Kingsguard obviously noticed he had an agenda and invited Willas over to his cabin — a better option since Willas’ cabin was a bit smaller, but he preferred that to having a large and comfortable cabin and have to entertain Hobber and his obnoxious talk.”

“So, what is it you want to know, Lord Willas?” Arthur asked, pouring them each a goblet of wine.

“I suppose that was quite obvious, Ser Arthur. I thought to speak with you before bringing my thoughts to Their Graces, because I am not knowledgeable about certain details and I was hoping you would fill in the blanks. If I am wrong, then I was right in not bothering them, but if I am right, then I will bring it to them immediately.”

“You’ve peeked my interest, my lord.”

“You see, I once met a man who was in King’s Landing during the Rebellion. He was a landed knight of the Reach and he surrendered when the Lannisters came, but he had been there all the same. And he told me how, once news from the Trident arrived, King Aerys furiously denied Princess Elia and her children — both of them — and named Prince Viserys as Prince of Dragonstone and his heir. I don’t know if it stands or if it has been documented, but it was what he told me.”

“It was documented by the crock who served as Hand at the time, the pyromancer Rossart,” Arthur said, curious as to where this was leading. “It was never made official, though, and I do believe it would not stand if a council was called to decide on the succession. The law is the law, and Aerys was known as the Mad King for a reason.”

“You see, I began to think of this once Their Graces declared they would take the throne together, as we both know that the lords of the Seven Kingdoms like to think in very backwards ways oftentimes.”

“And how does Prince Viserys being named the heir help the Queen?”

“Well, I heard from a different source that, after the Sack, Queen Rhaella crowned Viserys in Dragonstone unaware, I believe, of King Jon’s existence,” Willas added.

“Yes, that is all true. That is why when Viserys was smuggled out, he had Queen Rhaella’s crown, as it was the only one at hand. I traced it to a merchant in Pentos, but couldn’t get it back after Prince Viserys sold it.”

“You see, Ser Arthur, my logic was that King Jon had the right of birth, as he was the sole surviving son of Prince Rhaegar, the last crowned Prince of Dragonstone. However, if we went by the logic that the Mad King named Viserys as his heir, then Viserys is the rightful heir to the Targaryen throne. And, when Viserys dies childless and having named his sister as his heir…”

“Then Queen Daenerys is the heiress herself,” Arthur concluded. Then he snorted. “And because they have two competing claims, while they are married, what better option than to have them _both_ rule. That is genius!”

 “And it is, I believe, our solution to the whole ‘Aegon Targaryen’ issue. If we cannot easily determine if this man is a pretender or not, we claim the Queen’s right.”

“A good solution, I must agree,” Arthur said, pondering.

“Ser Arthur, they already have the North and the Reach. The Riverlands are an unknown, though they are too divided to present any challenge. They may honour their blood bond to Robb, they may honour their former allegiance to House Targaryen, they may join the Lannisters against the Starks, there is no knowing, but their numbers are not concerning. The Vale is another unknown, since it is held by Lady Lysa, sister to Lady Catelyn. All the same, she has married Lord Baelish so the Vale will either stay out of it or, if they won’t honour their blood bond to Robb, they won’t join this pretender, they will join the Lannisters. The Dornish, I admit, are likely to believe in the pretender and join him, but as a Dornishman yourself, I believe you know that their numbers are not so concerning against the North and the Reach together, plus the Unsullied and the Second Sons.”

“That is not what worries me,” Arthur said. “I know all of this and though we don’t know how much support this pretender has—”

“Well, that is actually no mystery,” Willas said, sitting back with his goblet. “We couldn’t find food in Volantis because a sellsword company had already bought everything. Through some inquiring — though I was actually more concerned with finding out the number of Dothraki supporting Queen Daenerys — I have discovered that the sellsword company bought supplies in the order of feeding ten thousand men as far as Westeros. And the man told me there was only one company that big around Volantis.”

“The Golden Company,” Arthur deduced, smiling. “Your grandmother taught you well, my lord. Ten thousand is no small number, I know — though as you said, not so very concerning against the North, the Reach, the Unsullied, and the Second Sons together, but the choice of the Golden Company is very telling, I happen to think.”

“I thought the Blackfyre line had died after the War of the Ninepenny Kings,” Willas said with a frown.

“The male line, yes, but no one is ever concerned about the female line.” Arthur scoffed. “And Blackfyre or not, if this man is simply a nobody who happened to have a Valyrian look and conned Jon Connington into siding with him, the history of the Golden Company will speak against him. And I still think the lords of Westeros will not side with him. Pretender or not, he wasn’t raised in Westeros, he is a man they don’t know and therefore don’t know what to expect. They will always go for the choice they know.”

“Well, that I easily agree with. Though are you certain Lord Connington would have been conned? Perhaps he is the one making up the con.” Willas suggested.

“No, that I wouldn’t so readily believe,” Arthur said. “Connington might have been arrogant and impulsive, but he would never joke with Rhaegar’s memory like this. If Connington is a part of this, he truly believes the boy is Rhaegar’s son. Though I do admit that it might not have been difficult to convince him, I don’t know. But he would have jumped at the opportunity of doing this in Rhaegar’s name.”

“I can see something else troubles you, Ser Arthur.”

“The King is an honourable man. Until we can prove this man is a pretender, King Jon will not want to fight his brother. Whatever argument about claims we come up with.”

“Well, we must find a way to prove he is a pretender, then,” Willas said. “Should we wait to tell Their Graces?”

“No, we shouldn’t. I am not lying to them, even if I do think it would be best to wait and make sure.” Arthur looked out the little window. “They will have retired for the night by now. We will tell them in the morning. I’ll warn Wex that I am requesting an audience over breakfast.”

Willas nodded, finished his goblet, and went back to his own cabin. Now, how to prove the man was a pretender?

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

After the breakfast meeting — which had gone exactly as he had imagined the night before: Jon refused to fight his brother and Dany was very satisfied with the catch — Arthur was overseeing the move into the smaller ship. Ser Davos was very efficient as always, snapping the crew into order and speed.

Arthur had had an idea on how to transport the dragons, he just didn’t know if it was actually possible. Dany had tried cages, but they were beyond unhappy with the ones she had found, as they were all closed and only had a grated front. They were also made of wood, what had obviously not fared well against the dragons’ discontent. Since then, Dany had taken to keeping them in the open trunk the Dothraki had first gifted her. While also not exactly happy, the fact that it was open (the lid had been removed) and that they could actually manage to fly to the top kept them reasonably contained. That and the cabin door being closed.

Knowing he lacked the specific knowledge to see if his idea was indeed viable, and also knowing the smaller ship would lack the necessary supplies, Arthur went to the forge, hoping that Gendry hadn’t yet crossed to the smaller ship. His chin fell in shock once he pushed the already slightly opened the door.

“Do the two of you have any idea what you are doing?” he exclaimed.

Arya and Gendry jumped apart, red as tomatoes. Arya was at least thankful that she had just gotten to the forge and therefore all they were caught doing was a not so unchaste kiss, since she had had the intention of going a bit further than that.

“Uncle Arthur—”

“The fucking irony!” Arthur muttered under his breath.

“Gendry didn’t do anything, Uncle!”

Arthur shot her a patronising glare. “I spar with you every day, Arya, and both your sword and your dagger are on your belt. If he had been stupid enough to do anything you didn’t want him to do, I’m quite sure he would have lost a hand by now, or at least gotten some scratches on him. Instead, his only bruise is a well kissed lip. Besides, you are in the forge and I hardly think he dragged you all the way down here!” Arya blushed even more. “Were you thinking about the consequences of this?”

“I’m not completely stupid,” Arya muttered. Gendry was looking down at his feet, certain this was how he died. Of embarrassment if not a blade.

“Well, you sure look like that.” Arthur scoffed. “Arya, since I haven’t heard any gossip, that means this is either recent or you are very good at hiding it. But even if there was gossip, we are far enough from Westeros that you will walk away unscathed. What do you think happens to Gendry?”

“No! Don’t do this, Uncle, please! I… I’ll never even look at him again, I promise! I’ll behave, I’ll be good! Just don’t…”

“I am not going to ruin his life, Arya, I’m not cruel. But you’d better hope Dany can calm your brother down.”

“Do you have to tell him?” Arya asked in a small voice.

Arthur only snorted. “If there are seven heavens, somewhere there is some god laughing about this,” he muttered again. “Arya, get back to your cabin or better yet, cross over already!”

“Uncle…”

“I won’t gut him, don’t worry. And I’ll make sure Jon doesn’t either. Now go!”

She left the forge reluctantly, but knew this was actually going better than she had expected. Arthur exhaled heavily, venting his frustration.

“You’re lucky all I saw was a timid kiss, Gendry, because then that’s all I need to tell the King about!”

“Ser Arthur, I would never—”

“Don’t bother, she’s too much like her aunt. And I do know she always gets what she wants. But for the love of the gods, keep your distance if you want to keep your head about your shoulders.”

“Yes, Ser, I will.”

“Get your things ready, but wait before you cross over. If the King is too furious I will speak to the Queen about leaving you behind with the main fleet.” Arthur turned to leave, his intent to come here completely pushed out of his mind. Then he turned back around. “Do you know who your father is?”

“Yes, Ser,” Gendry said. “And I have told the King. I want nothing from him. He sired me and that is all. But how… how did you know?”

“You may be a good man, Gendry, but you are his spitting image. Anyone with a good memory of the Rebellion could tell. I knew it the moment I saw you.” He closed his face then. “And Gendry, if you you hurt her, forget what _she_ will do to you — what will be much, much less than pleasant. If you hurt her, you will come to understand why I was called the most lethal of the Kingsguards. And I doubt you will enjoy that.”

Gendry gulped and Arthur left the forge, his mind full. Arya was waiting for him down the corridor, though. “Didn’t I tell you to go?”

“I want to know what you’re going to tell Jon.”

“I will tell him that I saw the two of you kissing. Don’t give me any more details, please. And feel free to tell him before I do.”

“Jon will be furious. Which is exactly I’ve been hiding it,” Arya said.

“You’ve been hiding it because you know you shouldn’t be doing it, little wolf.” Arya scoffed and turned to go to Jon and Dany’s cabin. “Little wolf!” Arthur called, rushed behind her. “We will both cringe at this, but I have to say it anyway. Don’t do anything stupid, Arya.”

“Like?”

“Like getting pregnant thinking that it will allow you to marry him.”

Arya blushed deeply, looking away. “I won’t. There’s no chance of that.”

“Great. And in the name of the gods, stop listening to Sarella. I knew putting you two together would end badly!”

Arya only blushed even more and turned away again, walking up to an upper level of the ship. Two sailors were bringing a chest out of Dany and Jon’s cabin, so Arya and Arthur only came in and the knight told the men to come back for the rest later, closing the door.

“Gods, I don’t like that face,” Jon said. “What did you do, Arya?”

“I figured I should come and tell you already, because I know Uncle Arthur would tell you anyway.” The knight only rolled his eyes.

“That did not in any way make me feel better,” Jon said.

“I kissed Gendry,” Arya said and then bit her lower lip anxiously. Dany only closed her eyes, anticipating the explosion, but couldn’t say she was that surprised.

“You did what?” Jon asked, the tips of his ears getting tellingly red.

“You heard me,” Arya said.

“For fu— if he took advantage of you, I will—”

“That sword is not a decoration on her hip, Jon,” Arthur pointed out.

“Are you excusing this?!” Jon asked, furious now.

“I’m not excusing it, I’m only saying that if Gendry had tried to take advantage, then Arya wouldn’t be telling you she kissed him, she would be telling you that she gave him a few cuts and bruises.”

“He didn’t take advantage,” Arya cut in. “He pushed me away several times, I was the one who kept insisting.”

“Why would you do that?” Jon asked, flabbergasted.

“Because I wanted to!” Arya exclaimed. “Because I love him! Because I don’t care about a good marriage with a stuffed lord with a nice castle! He loves me how I am, sword on my hip, riding astride, not a proper lady. And I love him.” Jon’s anger deflated a bit, and he begun to pace the length of the cabin. “You said you thought a man should be judged for his deeds, not the standing of his birth, Jon. You two want to break the wheel. I want that, too! What difference does it make if Robert Baratheon sired him on a tavern wench or on his wife? What difference does it make who his father even is?”

“Robert Baratheon?” Dany asked.

“Gendry’s his son. I ended up forgetting to tell you with all that we needed to talk about. He told me on the night he gave me the signet.” Jon stopped his pacing and exhaled heavily. “We do want to break the wheel, Arya, but it won’t happen overnight. It won’t happen over a few weeks or a few moon turns either. This will take generations to really happen.”

“What I think Jon means is that even if we give Storm’s End to Gendry and name him Lord Baratheon or even if we give him any other title, people won’t accept him easily. Even if we won’t care about it, all our peers still will. Have you thought about that?”

“He doesn’t want Storm’s End,” Arya said. “He doesn’t want anything from that fat oaf.”

“That is not the point, Arya,” Jon mumbled.

“Even if the fact that he is Robert’s bastard is never brought to light, he will still be a lowborn, Arya. He will always be an outsider, noble blood or not,” Dany reasoned.

“I don’t care. I don’t care about titles and castles and balls and tourneys. I only want someone to love me and not my birth,” she said and Dany felt terrible at seeing the vulnerability in her eyes. “I grew up hearing that no one would love me unless I was a proper lady and I hated them and I hated me for it. Ashara started to show me it wasn’t that black and white, but still, there is a pressure to be the lady of the castle. Gendry doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t care about a lady in a castle waiting for a song, he loves me with all my un-lady-likeness. I’ll leave the songs and the castles for Sansa. I just want him.”

“You can’t survive on love, Arya, have you thought of that?” Jon asked.

“I can work and Gendry is a smith — and a damn good one. Besides, Sam promised him some money from the print machine they’re making. It will be enough to get us a cosy home.”

“Gods, you _have_ actually thought this through!” Jon muttered, pacing again.

“You do not get to censor love, Jon,” Dany said. “Arya, we are not the ones who have to accept this. As backwards as you think it is, your marriage is Father’s decision and we will not interfere.”

“I can tell you he won’t like this!” Jon said. “And I don’t want the two of you in the same room again! Especially if you’re alone!” Dany rolled her eyes, but didn’t comment.

“Are you my gaoler or my brother?”

“I’m your older brother and I am protecting you! And I’m also your King! I’ll put two guards on you and if you sneak away, Arya, I swear to the gods that I will lock you up!”

She only huffed, rolled her eyes, and stomped out of the room. Jon punched the table when the door slammed close behind her.

“Were they really only kissing?” he asked with a hint of desperation.

“Yes, Jon, it was only a kiss. And not a wild one,” Arthur said, keeping to himself his opinion on the rest.

“At least that,” the King muttered, then got out of the cabin.

Dany made sure he was going up to the main deck and not below to the forge. “They weren’t only kissing, were they?” she asked.

“They were.” Arthur sighed. “But if I hadn’t interrupted, it wouldn’t have stopped there.”

Dany exhaled heavily. “I’ll talk to her. I know what it’s like to be young and in love.”

“Yes, except Arya has no restraint, Dany. The more we tell her to stop, the more we counsel her, even if we are not disapproving, the more we push her.”

“You’re right, Arthur. But I just… we can’t have any _surprises_ along the way.” She pointed to her growing bump. “You know that.”

“She assured me it was not a possibility.”

“You talked to her about it?” The Queen was surprised.

The knight rolled his eyes. “You can’t be prudish or treat these matters as taboo when you grow up with Oberyn.”

Dany bit her lip. Then she blushed deeply, raised in a Northern castle as she had been. “It isn’t a possibility as in they’re not doing it or as in she is being careful?”

“Well, that you are free to ask as you will,” Arthur said. “I won’t. Because what I don’t know, I don’t have to tell Jon. And I also really don’t want to know. I like Gendry, wouldn’t want to break his face.”

Dany chuckled. “Come on, we have to cross to the other ship or we will lose the wind.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ned smiled as he saw his wife and Sansa coming down the stairs, unable to help the bittersweet-ness of it.

“My beautiful girl, you look… stunning!”

“Thank you, Father,” Sansa smiled, though she was slightly nervous. Her white cloak embroidered with grey wolves would soon be replaced with a purple one embroidered with white stars and Ned was now regretting the decision.

“Are you sure about this?” Ned asked. “I can have a ship prepared for us to go if—”

“Ned!” Ashara exclaimed.

“Father, stop! I’m not a little girl anymore.” Sansa smiled. “You weren’t this anxious when it was Jon and Robb getting married.”

“Aye, well… they’re…” Ned blushed. “You are my little girl, Sansa. I suppose I’m still not ready to see you grow up.”

“I’m sixteen, Father. I’m a woman grown.”

“We can wait until you’re twenty. Or thirty!”

Ashara snorted. “You weren’t thinking that when I was the sixteen-year-old in question.”

Both Northerners blushed deeply.

“And it’s exactly because I was sixteen years old once that I think—”

“Father, stop. I am a woman grown and it is time for me to move on with my life. To be more than a daughter, to become a wife and, hopefully soon, a mother. So in about seventeen or eighteen years you can laugh as Edric behaves exactly like this.”

“Well, I will be laughing plenty tonight,” Ashara said, amused. “I must go, I will see you two at the sept.”

“I will miss having you around,” Ned said, not ashamed as his eyes filled with tears.

“You will have some time to get used to me being married while I am still around, Father.” Sansa kissed his cheek. “But now we must go. There is fashionably late and there is simply being rude.”

Ned chuckled, wiped his tears, and offered his arm so they could walk out the castle down to the stone sept in the gardens. After an intense week of walking around and exercising according to Maester Kurtys — the Starfall maester — and Maester Byren’s and instructions, he was walking much better and was barely relying on the cane. He would have been happy to leave it behind, but Ashara had convinced him that having the bride’s father fall on his face due to sheer stubbornness was most unbecoming.

The sept was filled with their families and what friends had managed to make the journey in so little time. Edric had said he insisted on having a feast and the Northern ceremony in Winterfell as soon as it would be possible, and Sansa had been radiant to have the big wedding feast to invite all the Kingdoms that she had always dreamt of.

Edric was enchanted once the doors opened and Ned started to lead Sansa down the aisle. He was smiling widely, his purple eyes shining. After giving his daughter away, Ned took his place next to his wife.

“Are you going to cry?” Ashara asked.

“Don’t tease me,” he admonished, but smiled.

“I’m not teasing,” she squeezed his hand. “I think you are sweet. And a marvellous father.”

The septon begun the ceremony then, so they went quiet.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> Can I say I LOVED what Arya did last episode? Because I did. I mean, I'm quite sure there would be several ways to do it that would have been great, but Arya Underfoot at work was really really awesome. Plus, she ended things with the dagger that started everything, so kudos to the irony of that.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and, since exams are *finally* over, I'll start working on those very very late comments. Thanks for the patience guys :)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos warm my heart and fuel my typing fingers ;P


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Seven Kingdoms learn to cope with unbelievable news and family reunion prove to be bad for private interests.

Dany laughed loudly, delighted, and Jon couldn’t help but to join in. They were lounging around, entangled in each other by the fire as they liked to be in the evenings, and their cabin, which Jon had once thought huge and far too lonely, now was anything but: Dany had purchased trunks and trunks of silk and dresses and vests for him and, even if most of them were in the hold, there were at least two extra trunks in there with them. That and the trunk that was housing the dragons proved to be quite the clutter, especially as Ghost spread around, taking over half the floor space as he begged Dany for a petting. She was more than happy to oblige, her fingers immersed in his soft fur as Jon drew loose patterns on her bump, smiling every time he got a kick in response.

Balerion wasn’t very friendly, preferring to keep practicing his fire breathing by himself, but Rhaegal had jumped up to the open top of the trunk and he and the direwolf were locked in a senseless game of poking.

“Alright, you!” Jon poked Ghost with his bare feet. “You’ve got years on him. Play nice.”

The wolf whined but stopped poking so strongly. Rhaegal clearly understood the parental interference and took advantage of it, jumping down from his perch, stepping on Ghost’s nose, and onto his chest. The direwolf sneezed with the tickling sensation, almost throwing the dragon off balance, and looked down to his chest with a glare.

“No fighting, boys,” Dany said, reaching over and picking Rhaegal up.

The green dragon gladly accepted her petting for a moment before he jumped over her shoulder to reach Jon. Rhaellion, loathe to be left out of the game, jumped over the trunk and landed on her thigh. Ghost sat up suddenly and huffed as if in warning, making the cream dragon caw and beat his wings twice. Then he cocked his head to the side, clearly confused, scenting the air and only cuddled up to Dany.

“My gallant overprotective knight,” she said fondly, rubbing between the wolf’s ears.

“Wolves also get pregnant, so he understands the idea of a baby in mama’s tummy. I suppose dragons can’t get it at first, because of the eggs.” Jon shrugged.

“Do you think all wolves are this protective of pregnant females or Ghost just takes extra care of me?”

Jon shrugged again. “Well, Lady, Nymeria, Midnight, and Shaggydog were also very protective when you and Aunt Ayla are pregnant. I suppose it’s something that is common in a pack.”

“The pack survives,” Dany said, smiling. “That means protecting the puppies even before they’re born.”

“It sure does,” Jon agreed, laughing, as Rhaegal nosed his ear in curiosity. “Hey, this tickles!”

“You know, Lyanna will be insufferable trying to get Blue to ‘crack’,” Dany said, chuckling.

“Gods help us, she will. And Little Addam will tag right along.” Jon rolled his eyes. “That if she doesn’t go back to complaining that she wants her own direwolf. Especially now that everyone will go back to Winterfell, so Lady and Shaggy will go back to Sansa and Rickon’s sides.”

“I can’t wait. I look forward to their pestering.” Dany smiled widely, tears flooding her eyes. Jon kissed her temple, holding her closer. He didn’t even want to contemplate the pain of thinking their children were gone.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Aegon was on top of the word. Well, at least on top of a very high cliff. He stood now watching the Blackwater Bay, imagining sailing into it to take King’s Landing. Almost there. Just a little longer.

His father interrupted his wandering thoughts. “There was another raven from the capital,” Jon Connington said. “I still think you shouldn’t have lied, Aegon.”

“I didn’t lie, Father,” he said, reaching for the scroll.

“Misled, then. They think we have the Usurper’s children.”

“I never claimed as much, Father. I only said I had Dragonstone and if they didn’t surrender the capital I would brand them as rebels. If they thought I have the children because they’re supposed to be here, it’s their own issue.” He unrolled the scroll and read another message demanding information on the wellbeing of ‘King Tommen’ and ‘Princess Myrcella’. “Well, they still want their king back, so Queen Regent Cersei is not taking me seriously. It does beg the question, though: where are these children? Because if they had escaped the island, wouldn’t they have made it to King’s Landing already? It has been over a moon turn.”

“I know,” Connington said. “And I agree that they should have arrived by now. What leads me to believe that they never left in the direction of the capital. By the way the battle was spread once we got here, the Lannisters were between Dragonstone and King’s Landing, so if they had escaped in that direction, they would have been found and, instead of facing the dangers of taking a castle, they would have been escorted to the capital immediately.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“I think, since Stannis’ daughter was not here and the wife refused to tells us anything, that some loyal servant took all three of them together. Your uncle Viserys was smuggled out of the island in much the same manner. So, they might have made it to safety in one of the Crownlands Houses.”

“The Crownlands were always loyal to House Targaryen. We have most of them interested to meet and form alliances already.”

Connington pursed his lips but withheld the second raven scroll for a moment longer. “They might also have gone to the last Baratheon safe haven: Storm’s End. They would have arrived by now, but Renly Baratheon is isolated and might be keeping quiet to not draw Lannister ire to the Stormlands.”

“Maybe. Well, I don’t care. As you said, Renly Baratheon is alone in the Stormlands and, though it would have been nice to have hostages against the Lannisters, I think we will be fine as we are. From all we have heard, they are unlike to get the allegiance of other kingdoms. All we need is the Reach and the North and—”

“I told you the Reach was more likely to join the North than to follow its loyalty to House Targaryen.”

“Because the wife of the heir to Winterfell is a Tyrell, yes. But, Father, once my aunt returns to Westeros, she will be our bridge to the North and—”

“I wouldn’t count on that anymore,” Connington said, passing him the second scroll.

 

> _To all the Houses of the Seven Kingdoms,_
> 
> _I, Eddard Stark, come through this to make known and public a fact from the end of the Rebellion. Unlike what Robert Baratheon claimed, I stand by the truth that Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, never kidnapped or raped my lady sister. By documents signed by the High Septon and with the knowledge of Prince Oberyn Martell, Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia, in agreement, dissolved their union. Following this, the High Septon joined Prince Rhaegar in marriage to Princess Lyanna of House Stark, who later perished in childbed, giving birth to Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, whom, for his own safety, I claimed as mine and hid in Winterfell as Jon Snow._
> 
> _Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, Warden of the North_

 

“This cannot be true!” Aegon said. “My father… he would not… I mean, this would displace me, would it not?”

“Though I must admit that Rhaegar was infatuated with the wolf girl, if he did dissolve their marriage, he did it while making sure you were still his heir. Your lady mother would never accept it otherwise, much less Prince Oberyn.”

“Then what is the meaning of this?!” Aegon asked, shocked and worried.

“This, I believe, is the first step in a plan to have ‘Prince Jon’ and ‘Princess Daenerys’ crowned as King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. If Elia’s brother is backing this, then no one will contest it. Also, everyone will remember how Rhaegar did not fit the description of a rapist and if Lyanna’s brother, the Warden of the North, is defending Rhaegar, then it must also be true. Jon and Daenerys are married, and a married Targaryen couple gives a lot of legitimacy to their claim. It was why you wanted to marry her yourself.”

“And they have children. That’s what you were going to say next, wasn’t it, Father?”

“It will be an important factor, yes, that they already have heirs. But what I believe will count most towards them is that they were raised here, they already have a castle in Westeros, and also, they enjoy the support of the North and the Reach already. The Riverlands and the Vale, if they take part in this, won’t be of much help.”

“My little brother, raised in comfort in Winterfell while I was raised in poverty in Essos…”

“You never went hungry, Aegon.” Connington was offended. “We might have lacked luxury, but we never suffered.”

“I’m not saying that! But still, little brother was raised in luxury in a castle. The Usurper, thinking to be rewarding the bastard of his friend, gave little brother a castle of his own, with a highborn wife. He even has mines and a fucking navy! He has alliances and trade deals and everyone knows his fucking name, all the while we barely know which Houses are allied with which!” Aegon breathed hard, furious. “Can this be a lie? A lie they invented? Even if my uncle does acknowledge that my parents dissolved their marriage, that my father married Lyanna Stark, can Lord Stark be inventing this because his bastard fits the timeline?”

“He could.” Connington shrugged. “Though by how honourable everyone claims Lord Stark to be, I wouldn’t count on it. And it is also unlikely to make a difference — we won’t be able to prove whether or not it’s a lie, not if the wedding really happened. And the lords are likely to believe it simply because he has the biggest support.”

“We need to destroy them,” Aegon said, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“That might be worse, son. It might turn our support away. As you said, Jon Targaryen — if he really _is_ a Targaryen — he is your _little_ brother. The easiest way for us now is to parley and invoke right of primogeniture.”

“I still won’t have a Targaryen bride,” Aegon complained. “And they have a marriage and three heirs. Two of them sons.”

“Then make him Prince of Dragonstone until such a time when you will be married and have an heir yourself. Use your marriage as a powerful bargaining coin. And which father would not consider it, to have his daughter be the next queen, his grandsons be princes? That is the easiest solution right now. Even with the Golden Company and if we get Dorne, we don’t have what it takes to fight the North and the Reach together, much less if the Riverlands and the Vale take their side.”

“They are still in Essos, Father.”

“Then they will have to pass by Dragonstone to reach Westeros. Invite them to talk. Or go meet them at sea. Either way, talk to them before they reach their supporters. The more support they are certain they have, the less likely it is that they will listen to you.”

Aegon cursed loudly, stomping back to the castle. The day had started so well, on top of the cliff. Now he felt he was at the bottom of the abyss.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Cersei Lannister, Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, was in a bad mood. The Lannister fleet had been defeated and, as such, they had not only lost Dragonstone, but her children were in the hands of a lunatic pretender.

She had already yelled with most of the servants, sent three guards to the black cells to await transfer to the Night’s Watch, and dismissed Court in a fit of anger. All in all, a terrible morning. She didn’t anticipate how the knock on her door would make it worse.

“I said I’m not taking any audiences!” Cersei yelled.

“Well, I’m not here for an audience,” Tywin said, coming in, not in the least vexed.

Cersei smiled. “Father! You’re here! We weren’t expecting you for a few weeks yet.”

“Well, your stupidity forced me to ride harder! What were you thinking, Cersei?!”

“Father, I don’t… I don’t know what you mean. I have done all that you asked of me: I engineered Robert’s accident, I seized the throne, and I have been holding it. Really, Father, you should be recognising that I am the most trustworthy one, the one who better learnt from you and…”

“‘The one who better learnt from me’? You must be a terrible student. And trustworthy? Is that what you think you are?”

Cersei scoffed. “I should have known. You still can’t see my value. Jaime is still your golden boy, even if I am the one who stood by you, listening to your lessons on the importance of—”

“Jaime is my son, but he has no head for politics, I’ve made my peace with that. And neither do you!”

“Of course, I am a woman, so I must not have a head for politics!”

“I don’t distrust because you are a woman, Cersei. If I didn’t trust women, I wouldn’t have left Casterly Rock, our home, the symbol of our power, and the last source of our fortune, in the hands of your Aunt Genna. I distrust you because you are not nearly as smart as you think you are. Tell me, aside from getting Robert out of the way — what was like taking a sweet from a child — what have you actually accomplished?”

“I’ve taken Ned Stark from power—”

“No, you haven’t. You attacked him in the streets in the most reckless manner possible — and Ser Gregor is still limping from it — then you branded him a traitor, and you let him escape through your fingers as the North marches south for war. We had seven Stark hostages to keep the Northerners from attacking and you let them and their entire household sail off into the sunset. Seven Starks, the Manderly idiot, and the wife and son of the heir to Highgarden. That was the North and the Reach in our hands, Cersei. Two kingdoms bent to our power without as much as lifting a finger. Ten hostages and you didn’t manage to get a single one of them.”

“Well, I took the throne in Tommen’s name.”

“And how does Tommen’s name help us?” Tywin asked ironically. “Tommen’s name is useless to me. We need Tommen to sit on the throne and smile as he says what we tell him to say. So, again, where is Tommen?”

“The Lannister fleet—”

“I told the Lannister fleet to get to Dragonstone and _peacefully_ get Tommen and Myrcella. Only attack if Stannis attacked. We could _not_ have people thinking we went there in violence when there was no reason for violence, because Robert’s death was an accident that led Tommen to the throne. Instead, the maester wrote that even if they caught Lord Stannis by surprise by attacking the island, they suffered enough to not be able to withstand that second fleet. That means someone gave the fleet different orders.”

Cersei clenched her jaw. “I told them to take the castle and get my children. I knew Stannis wouldn’t surrender…”

“And you still think you have a head for politics? So far, I only see a head for ruining everything. Right now, we can claim that Dragonstone was defeated by this Targaryen boy while the Lannister fleet was there to peacefully escort the King home, but you better hope this pretender killed everyone in the castle, because if there is anyone from Stannis’ people left alive to say the Lannister fleet attacked without provocation, we will be in trouble. And your _thinking_ won’t get us out of it.”

Cersei clenched her jaw, remembering what Ella Stark had said: ‘You, Cersei of House Lannister, started something you are going to need your papa to fix.’

“We have the throne and the capital…” she attempted to say.

“And we can’t fight back the other six kingdoms and the bloody Golden Company, Cersei! Honestly, I would have thought this was obvious. And, fine, we have the throne and we have the capital, where is the King? You can’t claim the crown as Robert’s widow, you need Tommen, or at least Myrcella! Having the throne means nothing if you don’t have legitimacy. Where is all this knowledge you claim to have learnt from me?”

There was another knock on the door and the Grand Maester came in.

“Ah, Lord Lannister! It is very good to see you! Am I to infer that you will take your position as Hand of the King?”

“Most certainly, Grand Maester,” Tywin said. “What news have you?”

“A raven from Starfall, but with the Stark sigil.”

“Starfall? What are they doing in Starfall?” Cersei asked. “Why have they not returned North?”

“Because they would have to have passed by the battle for Dragonstone and they might have imagined we had a blockade in place to stop them from going north. Once again, let’s thank your ingenuity.” Tywin cursed mentally but kept his composure. “Besides, the Stark girl was betrothed to the Dayne boy, they must have gone there to finalise the alliance and, like that, get the Dornish on their side.”

“The Dornish will side with this Targaryen pretender, Father.”

“Then perhaps so will the North.” Tywin took the raven scroll and could not actually keep all of his shock contained.

“What?” Cersei asked. “What is it?”

“This is the proof that we _needed_ Stark hostages, but you thought it would be best to let them go!” Tywin snapped. “This will split Targaryen loyalty, but we still can’t fight them,” he muttered. “This is on you, Cersei!”

“How will they split?” Cersei was confused.

“Rhaegar dissolved his marriage to Elia—”

“He didn’t!” Cersei yelled. “He… he… he said that… he said that his marriage to Elia was a fact he could not deny which was why he must deny me!”

“Well, he managed to deny it,” Tywin said. “The High Septon dissolved the marriage — in a move Oberyn Martell was aware of — and then married Rhaegar again.”

“To whom? I was in Casterly—” Cersei froze. “He didn’t. He wouldn’t have. She… she was a nobody! An infatuation!”

“An infatuation he married: ‘the High Septon joined Prince Rhaegar in marriage to Princess Lyanna of House Stark, who later perished in childbed, giving birth to Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, whom, for his own safety, I claimed as mine and hid in Winterfell as Jon Snow’. And to finish this nightmare, Robert unwittingly betrothed the boy to the last Targaryen princess around, in a move even more stupid than I had first considered it, thus making them a true Targaryen pair with Targaryen children.” Tywin counted to ten in his mind to keep from cursing loudly. “Well done, Cersei. If we had Ned Stark, this would still be quiet and the North would be cowed into cooperation. The Starlings— I mean, the _Targaryens_ , would be cowed into cooperation so long as we had their alpha. Now Ned Stark is out of our reach and already gathering support for his nephew and foster daughter!”

“Is he? Gathering support?”

“Well, I doubt he sent this letter just because his maester had misbehaved and was given sentences to write!”

“Father…”

“You have done more than enough already, Cersei. With any luck, your uncle already managed to wrestle the heir to Riverrun into coming to swear allegiance to Tommen so that is one kingdom we can count on, however helpless they are. Lord Baelish will bring us the Vale and I am certain Renly will side with us, since I doubt he would—”

“Renly isn’t here,” Cersei said. “He left, likely to Storm’s End.”

“You let him go?” The vein on Tywin’s temple was pulsing dangerously.

“Ned Stark caused chaos in Court! Then that common wife of his showed up and made the chaos worse and I sent the guards after them and by the time I noticed Renly had left…”

“That is quite enough, Cersei, thank you. I don’t need the details of your failure. You failed.” Tywin took a deep breath. “Try not to offend anyone for the rest of the day.” He left the room, motioning the Grand Maester after him. “What chaos did Ned Stark cause?” he asked as they walked over to the Tower of the Hand.

“Rumours, my lord, senseless and rude rumours.” Pycelle blushed, but had no choice but to confess what the rumours were about. “It is unfounded, of course, my lord.”

“Be that as it may, Renly will inflate these rumours as true and, with Stannis dead, he will try to wrangle the crown for himself. Tell me the rest of what has been happening,” Tywin commanded and the elderly man went on to tell him about the raven from Dragonstone and the absolute silence on King Tommen’s well-being. Sitting at his new desk, Tywin scratched his forehead. “In his raven, did this Targaryen pretender claim to have Tommen and Myrcella?”

“No, my lord,” Pycelle said. “Only that he was the rightful king and that you should yield the throne and the capital.”

“Well, that makes me wonder. Why wouldn’t he? Tommen and Myrcella were his greatest weapons against us. Connington was a hot head, but he would know that. Besides, he must have wizened up or he would not have had the sense to fake his own death to go into hiding.”

“What are you thinking, my lord?”

“I’m thinking that if I had the King and the Princess, I would not send a veiled threat to the Queen Regent, I would tell her to surrender the capital or receive her son’s head. There is something amiss here. Where is Varys?”

“Gone with the Starks, my lord.”

Tywin swallowed yet another curse. “Then find me another spy master to investigate who exactly is inside Dragonstone. And Renly is too quiet — send someone to find out what he is up to as well. The North is marching south and the Reach is likely to meet them, since Robb Stark married Margaery Tyrell. Sansa Stark is betrothed — or at this point even already married to Lord Dayne — so the Daynes at least will join the Starks even if Sunspear will join this pretender. And that is if we are lucky and both alleged Targaryen brothers decide to fight over who is the rightful heir. Because if they decide to fight together, our numbers alone won’t be enough.” Pycelle nodded and stood up. “Oh, and have a raven ready to be sent to the Vale, I will send a message to Lord Baelish. If the mad Tully septa took my sons there, I want him to bring them back and bring me her head. Or bring her alive so I can have her head, I don’t particularly care so long as her head and her neck lose their acquaintance.”

Pycelle bowed and left the solar as Tywin picked up quill and parchment. There was simply too much to be done.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Being the second daughter meant being second best, Lysa had learnt at a young age. Catelyn got the best chambers, Catelyn got the best dresses, Catelyn got the best jewels, Catelyn got more of Father’s attention, more praises from the Maester and the Septa. Catelyn got the best betrothal: Brandon Stark — handsome, charming, lovely Brandon Stark.

Lysa had fallen in love with Petyr, but Petyr obviously loved Catelyn. Loved her so much that small, skinny, weak Petyr had challenged the bulky, strong, muscly Brandon for the hand of the lady. The duel had been a joke and the brutish Northerner had nearly killed Petyr, even when he had promised not to. And Lysa had been there, nursing him back to health, until Petyr realised who was the one who loved him, who was the one worthy of his love.

And when Brandon had been killed, rather than losing the betrothed, Catelyn got Brandon’s little brother. Shier, not as charming and not as lovely, but a good and honourable man, a _young_ man, a hero of the Rebellion. All the while, Lysa had never had a betrothed. Hoster had always put it off, saying he would think about Lysa’s life once Catelyn’s was arranged.

And when Lysa thought she would have the permission to marry her beloved, when her grandest dream had been so close to fruition, when her beloved loved her back and their child grew in her womb… then Hoster decided it was not good enough. That his daughter would not be wasted on a nobody boy, she would be Lady of the Vale. She still remembered, still had nightmares about the guards coming into her chambers and holding her down, after she had refused to cooperate, while Hoster forced the moon tea down her throat. Her baby, her precious baby, fruit of her and Petyr’s love, bled out of her womb like unwanted waste. All the while, Catelyn, perfect Catelyn, only stood by and did nothing, the hypocritical monster. Because Catelyn always got away with her imperfections, but Lysa was punished and suffocated by hers.

And then, to add insult to injury, Hoster barely waited until Lysa was back on her feet, her heart irremediably broken, Petyr banished and their baby killed, to tell her she was marrying Jon Arryn. Old, boring, weak, ugly Jon Arryn. Catelyn got the young and heroic groom, while Lysa got the old and useless one. Catelyn pushed five brats out of her cunt, while Lysa had been forever maimed by her father’s cruelty and Jon Arryn’s weakness.

Lysa had laughed when she heard Catelyn had been sent away, exiled from Winterfell. Then she had danced and laughed and delighted once it came the news of Catelyn’s fall, her joining the Faith and losing House, position, and family. Always high and mighty and lovely Cat, finally paying for all of her sins.

And now… oh, how warm inside Lysa wasn’t feeling! What an amazing raven this was! Dark wings, marvellous words! Catelyn had lost everything because she had been a wicked creature towards Ned Stark’s bastard. But now! Lysa laughed loudly again, unable to help herself at the irony. The boy was not Ned Stark’s bastard, never had been. Catelyn had lost everything for absolutely nothing. There was no sweeter moment to be alive!

“Lysa, you asked to see me?” Catelyn asked, coming inside the solar. The lady couldn’t help looking over her sister: her simple, cheap septa dress, her beloved and cherished auburn hair hidden from view, since she could not have vanity anymore. Oh, how young Catelyn would be despairing now, to see that all her work and care to brush and braid her silken tresses had been for naught.

“I did, sister,” Lysa said, smiling falsely. “I have just received a raven. I thought about whether or not I should tell you or spare you the pain, but then I realised that you will find out sooner or later, so I should make sure you are not caught by surprise.”

“You are worrying me, sister. What raven could bring so important news?”

Lysa did her best to contain her absolute glee as she extended the scroll and Catelyn came nearer, frowning, to take it. As she opened and read it, Lysa carefully watched her every expression. By the end, Catelyn was shaking like a leaf.

“This… this cannot be true,” the elder sister said, trembling. _Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, whom, for his own safety, I claimed as mine and hid in Winterfell as Jon Snow_.

“It seems like in truth Jon Snow was not the Bastard of Winterfell after all, was he, sister?” Lysa asked cruelly, needling, provoking.

“If this is a lie, Lysa…”

“Lie? Why would I lie, my dear sister?” she asked, smothering her amusement.

“You know very well why,” Catelyn muttered. “You were always jealous of me!”

“Jealous? Jealous of how you are a failure?” Lysa mocked.

Catelyn decided to ignore it. “But this… Lysa, this is too cruel!”

“You should do well to remember that you are in my home as a guest, protected from the world because I am granting you asylum. Or do you think the High Septon will welcome you back? Or even that you can return to Riverrun? Gods know Lord Stark won’t let you back into the North. So do keep that in mind as you call me names, sister.”

“It is not my fault what Father did to you!” Catelyn insisted, feeling for the first time that she was just as lost as Lysa was saying she was.

“He is not my father!” Lysa screeched, all traces of amusement gone from her voice. “That despicable, old, cold-blooded, sadistic prick is not my father!” She was trembling now, too. “It might not have been your fault, Catelyn, but what did you do? You stood there! You let him ruin me and you stood there!”

“What was I supposed to do, Lysa? Go against Father? And as cruel as he was, if you hadn’t told him, then everything…”

“Everything would have worked out, that’s what you think, is it? You have always solved everything but telling a tiny lie. Even when that tiny lie was certain to grow,” Lysa snapped and Catelyn clenched her teeth to bite back a reply. “Oh, but things worked out perfectly for you, you married a young, strong man and went on to be Lady of Winterfell!”

“You are the Lady of the Vale! Wife to the former Hand of the King!”

“Wife to an old, weak, useless fool!” Lysa screamed. Catelyn took a step back. What that what Lysa was upset about? That she was Lady of a Great House, but married to an old man? “Hoster Tully broke me,” Lysa continued in a low voice. “I had a good and strong baby in my belly and Hoster Tully killed it and ruined my womb while doing it. And Jon Arryn’s weakness didn’t help. Do you know how many miscarriages I suffered? How many of my babies — my sweet, innocent babies — I had to watch rush down my legs in a river of blood? Robin is all I have, the only one who was good and strong enough to survive Hoster Tully’s curse.”

“It wasn’t my fault, Lysa,” Catelyn repeated.

“You were my big sister,” Lysa said, melancholic. “You promised me we would always be there for each other, that we would always protect each other. I chose the night before your scheduled wedding to Brandon to tell Hoster Tully so I would keep him occupied. Or you think I didn’t see Brandon stealing a kiss? I distracted Hoster Tully so you could steal kisses and be happy. I was there for you. But when Hoster Tully came to destroy my life, to kill me from the inside out, you only stood there and watched.”

Lysa stood up and crossed the room to the window.

“This is no lie, Catelyn. Eddard Stark never had a bastard, he never strayed from your bed. Well, that is, until he sent you back to Hoster Tully. And then Hoster Tully showed you that all your loyalty to him meant nothing. He sent you off to the Sept as if you were nothing. Because that is what we have always been to him: nothing. As soon as we displeased him, he kicked us out like stray dogs he didn’t want around anymore.”

“I couldn’t go against Father, Lysa. And I… in his very terrible way, he was trying to protect you. He was saving you from a life of poverty and needs. He made you a Great Lady.”

Lysa laughed sardonically. “You were always that girl, Cat. You wanted the castle and the House and the title and the position. Hoster Tully managed to make you Lady of Winterfell, like you dreamt of. He made you Lady of Winterfell and every day of your marriage, you were haunted by the thought that your husband had a bastard, that you weren’t enough for him. And look where you are now. You dreamt of songs and knights and titles and you ended up at the Sept, with nothing to your name. You were Hoster Tully’s perfect daughter, doing his every request, and you are less than nothing now. But that was never me. I didn’t want a Great House, a Lord Paramount for a husband, a castle and a position and a title. I wanted to be loved. I wanted babies. And look at me.” She snorted. “I have a castle, I have a position, I have a title. And I finally have love. And how ironic, really. You fell from grace, you lost everything for no reason at all. The bastard was never a bastard, Ned Stark never betrayed you. Not until he caught you being cruel to his royal nephew. I hope that haunts you for the rest of time, sister. I hope your dreams filled with etiquette and protocol and Court procedures will be forever tarnished by the fact that all you had to do was be a reasonable person and you would be the foster mother to the King, the woman who raised him. But you were cruel and wicked and weak.”

Catelyn was trembling, doing her best to keep her tears inside as she nearly ran out of the room and down the corridors to her guest chamber. Then she looked at the raven scroll again. _The High Septon joined Prince Rhaegar in marriage to Princess Lyanna of House Stark, who later perished in childbed, giving birth to Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, whom, for his own safety, I claimed as mine and hid in Winterfell as Jon Snow._

Her tears fell unbidden, a dam bursting open, out of her control. Brandon had died because he had gone to King’s Landing to save his sister rather than marry Catelyn. Ned had gone to war in Lyanna’s name and come back with a boy — a boy he claimed as his bastard but who had been his nephew all along. Catelyn had been so angry at Ned, she had wasted four years of their marriage in pointless hate. And no wonder Ned had been furious when he had discovered that the boy was denied things as nice as Robb’s — after all, the boy was the rightful heir to the throne. How could he not have told her? If Ned had told her the truth… Catelyn would never have resented him. She would never have mistreated the boy. She would have cared for him as a loving aunt, as one should care for a king.

But Ned had lied. He had hidden the truth from her, he had allowed her to mistreat the rightful king. No wonder the gods had forsaken her, no wonder she had lost her position and her children. She slid down to the floor, hugging the side of the bed, sobs wreaking over her. If only she had known… everything would be different. She would never have left Winterfell — unless she was going with him to the capital when Ned was appointed as Hand. She would still be Lady Stark. She would still have her children loving her.

The thought of that only made her cry harder.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The fog rose from the sea like a cursed spell suffocating the once great empire. Dany shivered, feeling smothered by the thick air around them.

“I don’t like this,” Jon muttered next to her. Rhaegal was holding on to his shoulders tightly, his claws already piercing the shirt and Ghost, sitting between him and Dany, was also clearly displeased, his hackles up.

“It’s like magic itself is against us,” Dany said quietly, grimacing as Balerion’s claws scratched her shoulders and Rhaellion tried to burrow his face against her chest. Across the deck, Arya was holding on to Nymeria, who was also uncomfortable.

“The air is getting thicker now,” Arthur said, his hand uneasily clutching his pommel — he knew a blade would be useless against magic.

And that was true. There was something different around them ever since they had turned into the Smoking Sea, inside the territory that was once the greatest city in the Known World, but today… today not even the Citadel would deny the magic around them.

“From all the maps we’ve seen,” Marwyn said, “Ser Davos and I agreed we’re as close to the ruins of the capital city as we can ever get.”

“That must be why,” Dany said. “We’re nearing the epicentre.”

“People were right in conjecturing that the Doom was caused by dark magic then,” the Archmaester added. “Because no volcano is this stifling.”

The black dragon, restless, growled and took flight, his wings still stiff and unsure, cutting the sleeve of Dany’s dress.

“Balerion, no!” she called. “Daor! Māzigon arlī!” (* _No! Come back!_ )

But the dragon didn’t listen to her. Rather, he only flew further away and, before Jon could move to stop him, Rhaegal followed. As he cursed, Dany also cursed in Valyrian, failing to hold Rhaellion back. All three of them made it in the direction of the beach, their small silhouettes soon disappearing amidst the thick white fog that surrounded them.

“Ser Davos!” Dany called. “Get us to land!”

“Aye, Your Grace!” their captain called, calling orders to the men and turning the wheel.

There was a low rumble of a volcano nearby.

“If they erupt, Dany, we’ll bake before we can try and sail away,” Jon said quietly to her.

“I know,” she bit out, annoyed and worried. “But we need to get them.”

“I know that.” Jon huffed, closing his eyes and trying to reach Rhaegal. “He isn’t far, but he isn’t listening either.” Dany exhaled, also closing her eyes, trying to reach Balerion like Jon had taught her. But it was simply not like what he said he felt with Rhaegal and Ghost, and she muttered another curse in Valyrian. “Dany, you need to relax,” Jon said.

“I can’t do it!” she snapped.

“Love, you’re not a warg, you know that. Of course it feels different.”

“I can feel their presence and there’s… I don’t know, some _understanding_ with Balerion, but…”

“Dany, they’re babies,” Jon insisted. “I can feel Rhaegal there, though that’s because I know where to look. But I can’t communicate with him like I do with Ghost. This kind of connection takes a while to forge.”

“I know,” she mumbled, still unhappy.

“This is as close as this ship can go, Your Graces,” Ser Davos said, approaching them. “We need to go into one of the boats if we want to make shore.”

Jon took Dany’s hand, in a silent move to tell her she was going nowhere without him, making her chuckle.

“Arthur, Grey Worm, you’re coming with us,” she called. “And we should bring some food with us just for safety.”

“Orys and Leeds, you stay with the ship,” Jon said. “Wex, we’ll need your bow arm,” he added, looking over to the beach and imagining what sort of creatures would be roaming the wilderness the ruins of the city were certain to have become. If there were any kind of creatures capable of surviving in such a place.

Jon was very put out once Arya jumped onto the boat, moving to tell her to leave, but then Nymeria also jumped over and Dany patted his forearm, whispering “I doubt she will be in any more danger with us or on the ship”, so he huffed and let it go. Sarella also joined them with the Archmaester, who was more than eager to see if he could find the remains of any libraries.

The second boat filled with more guards and Unsullied, Gendry wisely joining them rather than the boat where Arya was — though there had been no ‘threats’, the King was giving him angry glares and Arya had actually kept her distance for the past few days. Well, with the exception of a clandestine encounter in the middle of the night on her name day, which he was certain the Queen was aware of and had helped with.

Jon jumped out of the boat first once they made it to the beach, feeling a queer tingling of what he could only imagine was magic go up his spine. He turned around and lifted Dany from the boat, unwilling to let her take the chance to trip and fall, even if he knew she was more than capable. By her soft smile, Jon knew she was humouring him, which didn’t in any way diminish his overprotectiveness. Dany shivered once her boots touched the sand.

“This place feels like it’s been cursed,” she muttered. Then she tried to connect with Balerion again, feeling another faint push. “Come on, this way,” she said, walking up the beach heading east.

Jon felt for Rhaegal and was thankful that they both seemed to be in the same direction. “Let’s split up in two groups,” he said. “We meet back here on this beach by mid-afternoon.”

The guards nodded and Jon took off after Dany, Ghost already at the top of the wild trail. The Archmaester begun leading the second group up to where he could see a road meandering towards the inside of the ruined city.

Arya used the absence of her brother, sister, and uncle to step next to Gendry. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he said, checking their surroundings, but there were mostly Unsullied with them and they weren’t paying much attention. “But I don’t think we should be talking out in the open.”

“Jon won’t do anything,” she said. “Besides, better talking out in the open than trying to meet behind closed doors, as far as he is concerned, isn’t it?” He chuckled but couldn’t deny her logic. They walked a few yards down the road, following Marwyn’s lead.

“Too bad the secret of these was also lost,” Gendry muttered. “Certainly better than the roads in Westeros.”

“There are enough of them left in the Blessed Island aren’t there?” Arya asked.

“A bit, yes, but to put them back in use after centuries of neglect they had to use Westerosi methods. We have good foundations, but the road itself is not like this,” Gendry replied.

“Nymeria!” Arya called when the direwolf turned right, away from where the Archmaester led them. “Well, she wants to show me something,” she muttered, following the wolf up a winding side road.

“Lady Arya!” called Grey Worm. “King said stay in the groups!”

“Nymeria wants to show us something!” Arya called out, running up the hill.

Gendry rolled his eyes, but was actually amused as he followed. He heard Grey Worm and Marselen following, but didn’t slow down until he had reached Arya at what looked like a courtyard.

“Think this was a castle?” she asked, looking around.

“At least a manse,” Gendry said, looking at the downed remains of a tower. It was indeed big enough for a huge dragon to land on and drop a passenger, like the Archmaester had been telling them about.

“Come on,” Arya said, looking to where Nymeria stood, feeling the call through their bond.

“Be careful!” Gendry warned. “We don’t know how safe these ruins are. One misstep and we’ll be buried under a falling wall.”

“Good point,” Arya conceded. Then she jumped over a pile of rubble and made sure to step where she could see the imprints of Nymeria’s footprints. They were halfway across the main room of the old manse when they heard a ruffling of leaves. The Unsullied stiffened, their spears out. “Please tell me you brought a sword for yourself,” she said quietly, turning to the smith.

“I can make a sword, but I can’t wield one,” he replied with a soft smile, then pulling the cloth wrapping the thin package wrapped across his back.

Arya snorted. “Very subtle of you.”

Gendry only smiled as he pulled the hammer free. “For now, the hammer is the thing I’m familiar with. Maybe I’ve been waiting for you to teach me how to use a sword.”

“You should’ve mentioned it sooner. We had more than enough time on the way over,” she replied with a smile. “Lessons begin once we’re off this island.”

He chuckled and they continued following Nymeria through the rubble. Finally, they found her sitting in the middle of the biggest room they had yet seen — if it could be called a room when one of the walls was knocked over and the ceiling was long gone. She was facing away from them and Arya walked over, frowning.

“The Great Hall, you think?”

But Gendry looked around at what was left from the room and from its contents as well. Then he snorted, amazed.

“No, not a Great Hall,” he said, jumping over a fallen rotted beam and going to the huge apparatus in the middle. “This was a forge.”

“You sure?” she asked.

“Look at this,” he replied. “This is the firepot, I’m sure of it.” He inspected it further. “There’s… it’s too big…” He reached inside. Over the centuries of abandonment, much could be different than how it was intended to be used. “This is not coal,” he mumbled, going through the stones. Then he turned around, inspecting the rest of the space. “I don’t see a proper hearth, though,” Gendry said. “How did they keep the fire going?” he muttered to himself.

“I don’t think the Valyrians were the ones feeding the fire,” Arya said, from further inside the room. Gendry frowned and followed, his jaw going slack. “I’ve seen one of these before,” she said, blown away. “In the dungeons of the Red Keep.”

“This can’t be…” Gendry started.

“It is,” she cut in. “They didn’t need a hearth. They had the dragons breathe fire,” she nodded towards the huge skull. “It makes sense why this room is so big, then, to fit a bloody dragon in here while the smiths worked.”

But Gendry was only half listening now, staring at the skeleton, the black bones shining against the very weak sunlight that managed to get through the thick fog cluttering the air, throwing the familiar black stone from the fire pot up and down in the air.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” Arya asked.

“I’ve never seen dragon bones before,” Gendry answered after a long moment, holding the stone still now. “But I have seen something kind of like this. The same shade of black, at least.”

“What? And why do you look like you have just been told we’ll only ever have summer from now on?”

“Because I’ve had a crazy idea,” Gendry said, smiling. “And all of it involves one word in common: steel, glass, fire.”

“I’m sure you’ll explain what is the word in common. Because you just said three different ones.” Arya was frowning.

“Dragonglass, dragonfire, dragonsteel.”

“Dragonglass is what Jon found in the mines, right, what kills wights?” she asked and he nodded. “Dragonfire is self-explanatory and isn’t dragonsteel just another name for—” she cut herself short, flabbergasted.

“Dragonsteel is another name for Valyrian steel,” Gendry confirmed, turning back to the skeleton. “If we can find the spells they used in the forging, we might have just found the most coveted secret in the Known World.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dany got to the road first, the others rushing to keep pace. Her heart was beating in her ears, her blood pumping with excitement and wonder and also fear. Jon interlaced their fingers once he caught up with her.

“Can you please remember you have our baby growing in there before you rush off towards danger?” he whispered, unhappy.

“There is no danger this way,” she insisted and he only rolled his eyes.

They walked for another half mile or so until Arthur laughed as he bent down to pick up something. They all turned, seeing the rusted remains of a wheel, as the knight pulled out a bow from the rubble.

“After four hundred years, I doubt that bow will be of any use,” Daario said.

“It’s not made of wood,” Arthur returned, testing his hold on it. Then he dusted it, cleaning away the outer layer of dust and muck. “Wex, what do you think?”

The guard took it, pulling both ends. “It’s like a new bow, Ser. No string, obviously, but the limbs look good. If I can clean it and put on a new string, should work very well.”

“What is it made of?” Daario asked. “What survived centuries in this place?”

“Something that is too magical to be destroyed,” Arthur said, looking around for another bow or even the quiver and arrows. “Dragon bone. That’s what Valyrians used to make their bows. I thought there were enough of them left in Essos,” he needled the sellsword. “Keep an eye out, boys, anything we find can be useful!”

There was a chorus of ‘yes, Ser’ and they continued down the road. By the time they reached a clearing that looked to be the ruins of a town plaza, they had found another bow and a broken quiver.

“They’re flying back this way,” Dany said, looking east. A moment later, they could hear the dragons growling and their wings flapping loudly on the otherwise silent place. “I don’t believe it!” Dany gasped.

The three of them seemed to be flying a bit better than when they flew away from the ship but, rather than only Balerion sporting a dark colour, all three of them were black as they came into view, already a bit bigger, no longer the size of a small cat, but of a medium dog. As they landed, Dany and Jon rushed to them.

“Fuck,” the man cursed loudly. “They’re too hot!”

But Dany only passed her hands over the dragons, getting them darkened by soot. “They…” She chuckled. _Fire thrives in fire_. “They went by one of the volcanos. This is why they are hotter and covered by soot.”

“You can’t mean they went for a swim in a river of lava!” Jon exclaimed. But then, as he petted Rhaegal’s head, a patch of black dry rock as big as his fist got loose from the green scales. “Unbelievable!”

Jon and Dany then went on to clean all three dragons from the clutter of dried lava, especially their wings. As soon as they were reasonably clean, all three of them flew away again.

“That’s why Rhaegar told us to come here,” Dany said. “He knew the dragons…”

A ruffling of leaves nearby drew their attention. The guards and Jon pulled out their swords or bows, standing poised to attack. But the sound faded away without threatening them.

“They’re flying that way,” Dany said, uneasy. “Come on.”

They walked a couple more miles and, again, the dragons came back covered in dried lava, flying away once more as soon as Jon and Dany had cleaned them of the bulk of it. The pattern repeated five more times until Balerion was bigger than Ghost, the other two slightly smaller.

“That’s seven, Dany,” Jon remarked once the dragons were off again. “There are seven more to go. How big are they going to get?”

“No idea,” she said. “But I’m not sure they _should_ be growing this fast.”

Their walking had led them to what looked like the ruins of a castle. As Dany tried to keep going, Arthur held her back, the bottom of his cloak no longer pristine white, but all dirty.

“There is someone else here,” he said, looking out into the distance.

As they turned in the direction he pointed, they saw that there was smoke coming out of a little chimney nearby, an odd stone house propped up amidst the ruins of the old building.

“Let’s get back to the beach,” Jon said, looking at the sky. “It looks like it’s midday now, the others will be worried if we’re late, so we—”

“The Mother of Dragons,” an eerie voice called, “and the Dragonwolf, finally come to learn a little bit of what expects them.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first scene of this chapter is dedicated to D&D and episode 8x04. That is what I think of your idea of sending Ghost away and killing Rhaegal. As for the rest of the episode, I'll spare myself from commenting.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany find out who is in waiting for them in Valyria while there is more movement in Westeros.
> 
> Also, I added a "fuck you" to Dumb & Dumber, enjoy!

The guards once again drew their swords. It was a man, a very old, and frail-looking man, that came in their direction, using a crooked and knotted staff for support and wearing a faded and worn burgundy robe. His hair and beard were pure silver, falling down to his waist, and his eyes shone like deep amethysts. His facial features were well cut like Dany’s, even though they didn’t at all resemble the other. He was obviously of Valyrian descent.

“Who are you?” Jon asked, not lowering Longclaw though something told him this man, however odd and eerie, was no threat.

“I have been alone for so long that I don’t even remember my name,” the old man said. “No company to be had once the gods sentenced the whole peninsula to death.”

“You mean you were alive at the Doom?” Dany asked. “That is not possible!”

“The Doom, is that what you are calling it in the outside world?” the old man seemed amused. “Yes, I was alive then. I was not so young, but my hair was still black when the earth cracked beneath us. As to it being possible or not, did you not hold your husband’s dead body in your arms for two nights before he drew breath again, Mother of Dragons?”

Jon stiffened, the scar over his heart itching. “How do you know that?”

“I know what I am allowed to know. I was told you were coming and that I must tell you some things, so I have been waiting. For quite a while, I must say. Now come, I have known of your arrival ever since your ship crossed into the Smoking Sea and I’ve had tea prepared. Very bad form to keep a pregnant queen wanting for a hot meal, if I remember etiquette correctly.”

The dragons came back.

“Oh, but that is not a sight that has graced Valyrian skies for centuries. And how nicely they are growing too!”

“Are they?” Dany asked, stepping forward. Jon cursed and sheathed Longclaw, walking up to her and lacing their fingers together again. “Do you mean that Valyrian dragons grew this fast?” She slowed down, but still pulled Jon in the direction of the man.

“Sometimes,” he replied, leading them down a path of clean rubble towards his hut. “Not as a rule. Wild dragons more than most, they seemed to like the fire. Bonded dragons, though, since they usually bonded with babes and children, preferred to grow up at a normal rate. They get big enough to ride — if they haven’t drawn on the magic of the lava — once they are about four or five years old, so enough time for their rider to grow. But whenever a dragon hatched for an adult or when they needed to follow the warriors to war, then they sped up their growth by the lava baths.” The old man turned to the dragons. “Jikagon rāenābagon syt havor, riñar.” The three of them cawed and looked at Jon and Dany, but in a moment were gone over the fallen walls of the castle.

“What do you mean ‘wash up for supper’?” Dany asked.

“I thought only the guards didn’t speak Valyrian,” the man said. “But it seems the Dārys didn’t bother learning either.”

Jon had heard the word enough times to know what it meant by now and pursed his lips in displeasure. “We speak the Common Tongue in Westeros.”

“So I have been told.” the man chuckled. “And as a Westerosi Dārys—”

“King,” Dany said.

“My apologies, there was no reason to learn the Common Tongue before the so-called Doom. It was Valyrian the spell casters used to bind the magic of the volcanos, to make dragons, fire made flesh. It is Valyrian you will need to converse with them.”

“Converse?” Dany asked again. “That means we can talk?”

“They are not mindless beasts!” the man said, clearly offended. “They don’t speak like men do, Valyrian or the Common Tongue, but they communicate with their riders through impressions. A truly bonded pair can have full conversations, if I remember correctly.”

“Were you a dragon rider?” Jon asked.

“No.” The man smiled. “I was not a noble, though my grandmother was a noble bastard, which is why I have a bit of the classic dragonrider look.” They arrived at the hut now and outside there was a long table laid out with food. “Come, let us sit and we may keep talking as we eat. We have three sunsets until you must leave or you will be trapped by another eruption.”

“The volcanos are still active?” Arthur asked, uneasy.

“Oh, they only spit fog and heat and smoke these days. But it does make it difficult to breathe for those who don’t have the resistance to fire the spells granted the dragonriders. Sit, sit, the boar must be going cold.”

Jon hesitated, but finally Ghost joining the table and plucking a broiled hare from it made him relax and help Dany to a seat, taking his next to hers.

“Now, then,” the old man said, taking his own seat. “There is much to talk. But I sense there are bigger questions right now.”

“We thought this place was haunted,” Dany started. “We were told no one survived a journey to Valyria. Once a Targaryen princess flew here on her dragon and returned very ill.”

“Princess Aerea, if my memory serves, came on the first Balerion, the last Valyrian dragon. The curse was much stronger then and I warned her to not touch things she was supposed not to have messed with. But she was too curious. She wanted to see what blood magic had been so terrible to have the power to destroy the greatest city in the Known World. Unfortunately, the thing about terrible spells is that they usually consume you from the inside out. That one had been powerful enough to blow up the Fourteen Flames at once. No girl could have survived it. That and she messed with the firewyrms. The dragon, Balerion, if I remember correctly, barely got her out of here before she melted.”

“You mean that the whole peninsula shattered, the city was destroyed and thousands were killed because of one spell gone badly?” Jon asked.

“Not just any spell. Valyrians spellbinders had been playing with magic from the dawn of their civilization. First, they were simple shepherds, but then they wanted the power and might of the volcanos. For years and years, as their society begun to organise and develop, they tried until a group finally succeeded in binding the power of Fire for their use. The first man who tried that boiled over not much later, so they realised their bodies, strong as the magic made them, was not equipped to deal with so much power. Then, they discovered a way to bind the power of the Flames to the biggest and fiercest animals in the peninsula: the wyverns. They were successful. But the wyverns were no longer mere wyverns after the spells. They grew stronger, more powerful, bigger. They became dragons. The fire of the volcanos was now woven within their flesh, crawling beneath their scales. The dragons grew wild then, too powerful and too mighty, threatening their makers. And so the Valyrians found a way to bind them to men, to intertwine their magic, their power, to a man’s life, and so keep them in check. It worked as well. But, in the process, to absorb such magic, the Valyrians had to bind their blood to the blood of the dragons. This binding changed them into the looks I now see in you, my queen. The golden hair and violet eyes are a manifestation of the magic in your veins.”

“I don’t have those,” Jon said. “How can I have bonded with one of the dragons, then?”

“Because, as I just said, golden hair and violet eyes manifest magic, they were consequences of a Valyrian spell. And through generations, that was the look of Valyrian nobles, the ones who could command dragons and the ones who couldn’t.”

“Why only the nobles?” Dany asked. “If it was the entire city…”

“It is not so hard to imagine, I believe, that those who managed to bond with the dragons quickly rose to power over those who didn’t have dragons. In few short years the entire elite of Valyria was comprised of dragon riders, all of whom were golden- or silver-haired and had eyes that ranged from indigo to violet or even lilac. When, very rarely and mostly in the beginning, there was a marriage outside the dragon riding families, the laws of inheritance were smudged to make it so the child who would inherit would be a dragon riding child. But the dragon riding looks were more powerful than simple looks so it was rare for a dragon riding parent to have a non-magical child. The merchants had money but no power and the slaves… well, I don’t think it merits saying that no one was worried about what slaves looked like.”

“Now,” the old man continued. “You mentioned your own looks, my king, when you descend from the dragon riders. But your magic has another source, a source from Westeros. You didn’t need a physical manifestation when your mother’s blood was already magical in of itself. The magic in the Stark blood comes from the Children of the Forest, through intermarriage, not from spells to bind men and magic. You have the magic, my king, but you didn’t need the looks.”

“Is that why I can withstand the fire, but my brother couldn’t?” Dany asked. “Even when he had this Valyrian look?”

“Yes. He had the look because it was the look of his family for generations. But he didn’t have the magic. The God of Fire cursed arrogance at the time of that last spell. So it matters not how much magic a person is born with, if they develop the same arrogance that led those spellbinders to create monstrous spells, the magic will be stripped of them. Magic is powerful. Dragons are powerful. And the men and women who abuse this power have been cursed to lose it. I believe there was a Targaryen king who was swallowed by his throne, a throne forged with magic, for his arrogance.”

Jon looked away, avoiding Arthur’s smirk, as he absentmindedly scratched his forearm. “You said you were told we were coming. How? Who told you?”

“You host a Red Priestess in your home, Aegon Targaryen,” the old man said and Jon turned his nose again. “The flames told me. Because the Lord of Light sent me that warning.”

Jon barely hid his eye roll. After years with Melisandre, he was just about done with prophecies and gods and prophets.

“What message did your god have that was so important to keep you alive for four centuries and draw us here?” Dany asked, equally impatient.

“Melisandre has clearly failed to mention, but she is as old as I am. Well, I believe she may be a few years younger, but when it comes to centuries, we have seen the same number. But that is not the point.”

“The point is the message,” Dany insisted.

“Oh, yes, that. Well, we should for the others, shouldn’t we?”

“They won’t be able to find us here,” Jon said. “We agreed to meet on the beach.”

“Oh, I know. But I have to admit that the Old Gods did manage something incredible in choosing direwolves as their vessel. You see, wolves are loyal creatures, a species based solely on the survival of the pack. Your connection to each other, your bonds to your soul animals are stronger than any other in the Known World. Nymeria knows where Ghost is and he seems awfully certain that I am no threat.” The old man nodded towards the white wolf, comfortably lying on the ground and eating another hare. “She will lead them here. Until then, tuck in, tuck in. It’s been so long since I’ve had company for supper!”

Jon and Dany exchanged a look. This was not at all going how they had imagined. Even if they had been unsure of what to expect.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Kevan dismissed all the men hanging around his tent once the messenger brought Tywin’s reply. A siege was something that grew very boring very fast and the knights had been trying to persuade him into attacking already. But once he had read his brother’s command, Kevan knew they would all be disappointed. Or not. If Edmure Tully acquiesced and came quietly, there would be no fighting, only more marching towards King’s Landing. But if he didn’t… he called his first lieutenant back in.

“What is the state of the Tully forces?”

“What the boys managed to peek from within the castle, about eight thousand. Another four thousand are said to have been dispatched to the western border, so they’re either dead or captured at the Golden Tooth, I’d imagine.”

Kevan took a deep breath. “There’s twenty thousand of us and eight thousand of them, so the advantage is ours. However, they have the walls of Riverrun. The Tully heir, though, didn’t seem very capable as a commander.” He drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment. “Send a runner to the castle and tell Edmure Tully I want to parley again.”

“Right away, my lord,” the lieutenant said. “And if Lord Edmure won’t come?”

“Tell the men to begin building siege weapons.”

The knight bowed and left. Kevan sighed. He really hoped Edmure Tully wouldn’t be stupid enough to stay behind his walls. That would only mean a tiresome siege before the man lost the castle anyway and then they would have to waste time reorganising the Riverlands. It would be much easier if the Riverlord came to King’s Landing peacefully.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Olenna laughed loudly, like she hadn’t in a long while.

“What is it, Grandmother?” Garlan asked, looking up from a long report on supplies.

“It seems my theory was not no outwardly after all,” she said, still with laughter in her voice. “My theory about Jon _Targaryen_ ,” she explained. “Your sister says: ‘ _King Jon wrote to Robb with this astonishing news and, also, informed us that he and Queen Daenerys sail west already. As the Northern forces were already preparing to move, we will soon depart and meet the King and Queen under the dragon banner once more_ ’. Oh, but won’t this drive some people up the walls!” She chuckled again. “The one stain in Eddard Stark’s honour, Court whispered as the boy grew up.” She snorted. “And it turned out to be the most honourable deed of them all. To protect his sister’s son, to throw his name and his beloved honour to the mud for the boy’s protection… We should have guessed sooner that there was something amiss.”

“What now, Mother?” Mace asked.

“Now we march,” Garlan said. “We meet the Daynes and Lord Stark on the road and we go to Harrenhall to swear fealty to our rightful rulers.”

“We do indeed,” Olenna said. Inside, she was still laughing. Oh, what wouldn’t she give to be a fly on the Red Keep’s wall to see Tywin’s reaction!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon pulled the fur over Dany’s sleeping form, smiling softly at her. After their trek over the ruins of the old city, it had not surprised him in the least when she had started to fall asleep over her empty plate, the physical exhaustion allied with the pregnancy too much to keep her awake after a satisfying and warm meal.

“Do you believe him?” Arya asked quietly, but startling Jon all the same. “About this God of Death?”

“I thought Syrio had told you several times that ‘there is only one god and his name is Death’,” Jon replied, guiding his sister a bit further away.

Ghost laid down next to Dany, resting his head over her middle, and settled to keep guard over her sleep. The dragons were still flying all over the island, taking dips into each of the Fourteen Flames according to the hermit.

“Well, it’s different than having an old man tell us he’s lived for over four centuries in the ruins of a cursed city because the Lord of Light wanted him to give you and your wife a message about the God of Death. Whom, I might add, is so evil that he cannot be named, so he was known first as the ‘Great Other’ and then, because he and his army bring an eternal night, the Free Folk took to calling him the ‘Night King’.” Arya shrugged.

“I don’t know how much to believe, actually,” Jon said. “But I’ve been beyond the Wall, Arya. I’ve seen the White Walkers. They raise the dead to be their foot soldiers. How can I not believe his story? Let’s not get into the question of whether or not he survived these four hundred years, but why would he come here — and in the exact time we did — to warn us about something no one else believes in? How would he be talking about things people in the North, the closest to the Wall, still don’t believe in? How can an Essosi man believe in a creature of ice and snow and death when these things are so abstract compared to what they know here?”

“In other words, you do believe him.”

“I don’t _disbelieve_ him, rather,” Jon stated. “I _died_ Arya. I died and Melisandre brought me back. I can’t disregard magic.”

“And you can warg into a direwolf and ride a dragon.” She chuckled.

“That too,” Jon agreed. He then looked over where the others were gathered. “Do you really love him enough to give up everything?”

“Jon, can you imagine me sitting by a hearth and sewing?”

He snorted. “Perhaps when you’re really old and have a bunch of grandchildren.”

“Only if I want them to hate granny.” She laughed.

“You would make the most dreadful scarves,” he joked. “You don’t need to be a proper southern lady like Sansa, Arya, I just…”

“What would you say if someone told you that you couldn’t have Dany?” she asked seriously. “Jon, regardless of the truth, you grew up a bastard, like Gendry. What if people told you that you couldn’t be with the love of your life because you were born to the ‘wrong’ people?”

“You know Dany and I didn’t marry because we wanted to, Arya. We married because we were forced to.”

She rolled her eyes at his stubbornness. “I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that you love each other. Maybe because you grew up together knowing you would get married, maybe because it was your weird dragon magic calling for each other, maybe because it was just meant to be. But Jon, what if you loved her, but you couldn’t have her because she was a lady and you were a bastard?”

“I would know she was too good for me,” he said. He snorted again. “I always thought that. Up to the moment Lya was born actually, I kept thinking she was too good for me and I didn’t deserve her and there was still time for her to realise that.”

“What changed?” Arya asked, curious as to the odd turning point.

“I held Lya in my arms and I figured that if we could create something so perfect and pure together, then nothing about us could be wrong.”

“You do realise that you kind of just told me to have a child, right?” Arya asked, highly amused. Jon blanched, turning to her with wide eyes and a fear-stricken face, making her laugh loudly. “Don’t worry, I’m fine with being the cool aunt for a while yet.”

“He had better—!”

“As Uncle Arthur said, Jon, I can use this sword. Besides, he would never do anything I didn’t ask of him or asked him to stop. He is kind of like you, you know, thinking I’m too good for him. Gods, did I have to talk him out of his inferiority complex. I suppose I’m only more stubborn, telling him to get over himself and making clear I’m the one who decides who is good enough for me.” She chuckled at his still dumbstruck face. “You know, next time you’re being obnoxious, I’m going to talk about having a baby. I don’t think anything ever shut you up this quickly.”

Rhaegal flew back then, breaking the moment and jarring Jon from his stupor.

“That was what, the tenth?” Arya asked.

“Eleventh,” he replied, mechanically getting as much as the dried lava off as he could.

“They’ll be big enough to ride soon,” she said with a huge smile, helping with the cleaning up as Balerion and Rhaellion joined them.

“I’m fine with Winterstorm.” Jon chuckled as Rhaegal turned around with a glare. “Nothing personal, lad, I just don’t think I belong up there.”

“I would leave that decision for after your first ride,” Arya said. “Or after the second actually. Because I’ll be a nice sister and let you go alone the first time, but I’m tagging alone on the second. And gods, will I rub that on Robb’s face!”

Jon chuckled, shaking his head. “Do me a favour and don’t tell Lya and Little Addam. Little Aemon is too young to understand, but they will be furious that you got to ride before they did.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “They’ll have their own dragons soon enough.”

They sat, looking around and contemplating all that the old hermit had said.

“The lords won’t believe it,” Jon said after some time. “They were upset enough to have to pay the Night’s Watch dues, they won’t want to believe that Death is marching south to kill us all.”

“Well, good thing that you can tell them to shut up, get over themselves, and kindly do as you say. Or maybe not so kindly.”

“What if this Aegon Targaryen really is my brother?”

“Jon, I know this is an impossible situation. But really there is no way to prove that. Whether he is your brother or not, all we will ever have is the word of whoever took him out of the Red Keep.”

“If you think like that, all we have to prove who my parents are is…”

“Is the word of Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, and Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword in the Morning, both of whom enjoy a stellar reputation. Not to mention what Uncle Arthur said about the documents signed by the High Septon. Jon, this Aegon Targaryen, no one ever even heard about him. He came up out of nowhere, with an unverifiable claim, wanting the Iron Throne. He has no allies, he has a very small army compared to yours, and—”

“And he is the rightful heir,” Jon cut in, making her roll her eyes.

“Says _him_. And how convenient.”

“I can’t fight my own brother, Arya.”

“Jon, you’re thinking about fighting Robb, of course you can’t fight him. But this is different. You don’t even know if he _is_ your brother. So how about you try to find out before descending into a pit of despair?”

Jon chuckled. “Regardless of having grown up with him or not, he is my brother.”

“Alright, let’s go there. How did Dany feel about _her_ brother?” Arya asked and Jon’s face twisted into a stormy frown. Only the mere thought of his uncle threw him into a fury.

“You’ve made your point,” he muttered.

“Good. So why don’t you sleep on that?” With that, Arya ruffled Jon’s hair and walked over to where her bedroll was, between Sarella and Irri.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dany sat up in a jump, disoriented, but fear filling her very soul.

“Hey, hey, hey, take it easy!” Jon exclaimed, jolted awake, sitting up and pulling her into his arms. “You’re alright, Dany, you’re safe. We’re safe, the baby is safe.”

She was breathing hard, trying to comprehend the where and why and when she was. When she did, she broke down in hysterical sobs. At a loss, Jon only held her.

“Hey, it was a nightmare,” he whispered softly.

“It felt real. Too real.”

“Wanna tell me about it?”

She shook her head strongly, buried against his chest. “I’m afraid it will make it come true.”

“Hey, look at me.” Jon pushed her delicately at first and then with enough strength that she would stare into his grey eyes. “You are Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. There is no monster you can’t defeat.” She shook her head again, more tears falling. “Hey, Dany, listen to me. You are the strongest person I know. You are kind and fair and generous and so, so strong. You can defeat all the monsters and protect our children and our people. Because that is who you are.”

“What if I am the monster?” she asked weakly, trembling.

“You aren’t, Dany, of course…”

“But what if I am, Jon?! What if I am mad, just like—”

“If madness is a condition of the Targaryen blood, then I am mad too, aren’t I? So was Rhaegar, since everyone remembered him as kind, though thoroughly reckless in running off with my mother. So is Uncle Aemon. So was your mother. So are Lyanna, Little Addam, and Little Aemon. I would like to believe I am not mad, and neither are our children. You’re not mad, Dany. And do you know why? Because if exploding King’s Landing was the only way to take it from the Lannisters, you would make sure our army infiltrated the city and took out every last innocent from there before you unleashed Balerion on the Red Keep.”

“Jon, I need… I can’t. If I let the Iron Throne cloud my judgment… if they take the children from me again…”

“Dany, when you thought you had lost everything, did you burn Meereen down to get to the masters?”

“I didn’t have dragons!”

“But once your army had breached the city walls, you still had plenty of opportunity of letting them sack the city and set fire to everyone. You _didn’t_. That was you lowest point: you thought you had lost the baby, you thought you had lost Lyanna, Addam, and Aemon. You thought you had lost me and our home. You had never been more desperate, it had never been so easy for the madness to take over. However, according to Ser Jorah, your command was no sacking. You threatened to charge with treason those who harmed the people, to geld those who dared rape a woman. You’re not mad, Dany. You’re their queen. Because you protect them from monsters.”

“I killed my brother.”

“Your brother told you he had murdered your children and your husband. You didn’t _kill_ him, you followed the law of the land. Remember what Father taught us, that the law is hard, but it is the law? Can you understand that?”

“‘Love is the death of duty’,” she intoned. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to lose everything again.”

“According to you, in your dream with Grandmother, she told you that our greatest glory was that love is what brings us strength. You love your people. However could you harm them?”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Oberyn only looked as their ship approached the island. He didn’t like Dragonstone, never had. Not when they first came here, to witness Rhaegar’s coronation as Prince of Dragonstone and Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, not when he escorted Elia here after her wedding, and not in the handful of times he had visited. The old Targaryen fortress was eerie and imposing, and the Dornish prince preferred the colours and easiness of Sunspear. Or, better yet, the Water Gardens.

“I still think this is a dangerous plan, Father,” Obara said.

“We are living in a dangerous time,” he returned. “We must be sure, Obara.”

“What if this man is a farce? Uncle Doran said…”

“Your uncle is thinking about Dorne’s prospects in the coming reign. And, of course, in honouring your aunt and cousin.”

“And you aren’t?” Obara asked, frowning and very much unbelieving.

“I happen to think that there are other ways of honouring my sister than by supporting a farce,” he replied quietly. “Doran basically said we must support this man, but make better terms if he can’t prove he is our nephew. I don’t agree. If he isn’t our real nephew, supporting him is _not_ honouring Elia, it is only spiting Jon and Daenerys Targaryen. And those two have everything in place to take the throne — spiting them needlessly will not improve Dornish chances.”

“Then why are we coming to the alleged dragon’s lair instead of meeting in neutral ground?”

“Because your uncle doesn’t care who this Aegon person is, only that we are supporting him. Besides, when have you ever heard of me being unable to leave a place I want to leave?”

Obara smiled. “And if they seize the boat?”

“Well, I admit it will make things more interesting.”

The young woman laughed now. “You sometimes like to live too dangerously, Father.”

“Safety is overrated.” Oberyn shrugged. “Now come on. Let us greet our host and see how we are playing our next move.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dany was having a very hard time keeping up a polite and serene front. This morning, their third and last morning in Valyria, they had just finished breakfast when Oldy — as Sarella has taken to calling him — directed the guards into bringing a trunk filled with books to their camp. Once it had been opened, the Archmaester had taken to it as if it were a delectable meal, uttering ‘wow’s and ‘oh’s as he carefully riffled through each of the yellowed pages. He seemed like a boy in summer, being given all the toys he had ever asked for, as well as those he hadn’t had the imagination to want. It didn’t help that she was imagining Sam’s similar reaction.

“Your Graces,” Leeds called, approaching them and making Jon and Dany turn. “If we might be so bold, we had an idea and Ser Arthur was very enthusiastic about it. We would like to show it to you now that it is ready.”

“What is it?” Dany asked.

“You are probably not aware, my queen, but my father was a saddle maker and Wex’s was a tanner,” the guard continued. “Between the two of us, with the help of the old man here, we managed to make you something. If it pleases you.”

Jon helped Dany to her feet — at five moons along now, her bump was very visible — and they followed Leeds the short distance to where Arya, Arthur, Gendry, and Wex were gathered.

“What in heavens…”

“Oldy pointed us in the direction of the old tanner shop or something,” the girl said. “And apparently dragon leather doesn’t go bad even after a few centuries.”

They had made two saddles for the dragons. Though they didn’t look like the best saddles Jon had ever seen, they looked sturdy and strong.

“Dragons never stop growing,” Dany said. “Have you…?”

“The seat will remain in the same place, my queen, and we can add more leather to the straps if need be.”

“Though Oldy said that the position of the rider’s seat on the back is mostly unaffected by the dragon’s growth,” Arthur said. “Magic, I suppose.”

“Only, we didn’t manage to see if it fits, Your Graces,” Wex said.

Dany smiled, reaching out for Balerion — Jon had been right: now that the dragons were bigger, it was much easier to reach them. It was like having a conversation by impressions. And though she could communicate with all three dragons, her bond with Balerion was the strongest.

Now, after they had gone through all of the Fourteen Flames, they were big enough to ride, the Valyrian man ensured them, their wings as long as 60 feet across. According to Oldy, it was enough to take on as many as three passengers for some time, though it wouldn’t be enough to carry even only one across the sea in one go — Jon saw the eagerness fade from Dany’s face. He could guess that, after seeing the size of the dragons, she had been hoping to get on Balerion’s back and fly straight home and wait for the ships to deliver their people to Harrenhall next to their children. He couldn’t blame her, as he had to admit that he had been thinking the same.

The black dragon landed with a loud and strong _thump_ , as if he wanted to clearly display his might. Rhaegal, just slightly smaller, stooped next to him with a more subdued landing, but no less fearsome. Only Rhaellion remained in the air, soaring leisurely through the clouds.

Dany and Jon soothed the dragons as the guards carefully put the saddles on them. Rhaegal was bothered it was clear, but Balerion was very unhappy with the straps around him and luckily Dany managed to keep him calm. Once it was done, she smiled widely.

“I’m not sure this is safe,” Jon said softly, his eyebrows creased.

“It will be very safe,” Dany returned just as softly. “Balerion would never harm me and Ghost made them understand they must be careful with me. Besides, I am very eager.”

Jon chuckled. He knew her too well. “Promise me to come back if you feel anything.”

“I promise.”

“The leg straps will keep her safely on the saddle, my king,” Wex said. “We were very thorough with them.”

“And I checked them about five times,” Arthur said.

Dany chuckled. “You are all overprotective buffoons. I am pregnant, not incapacitated.”

“Our khaleesis don’t stop riding because of baby,” Irri said. “Her Grace is the strongest Khaleesi. She can do it.”

“Thank you, Irri. You all worry too much.”

Dany went to the saddle and Balerion rolled his shoulder down so she could climb more easily. Jon hovered nearby until she had settled and then he and Irri helped fasten the leg straps so Dany wouldn’t need to bend.

“Jon, that’s enough,” she said a while later, when he was checking it for about the third time. “Doesn’t matter how many times you check, the straps are tied.”

“Fine. Be careful.”

He kissed her forehead and climbed down. They all stepped away as Balerion spread his large wings and took flight, knocking all of them out of balance with the strength of the wind he raised. As Balerion reached Rhaellion’s height, they both growled loudly. Rhaegal looked to Jon expectantly and he chuckled as he came nearer the dragon.

“Don’t forget to come down after a while to pick me up,” Arya said excitedly. Jon looked up from tightening the straps and nodded, laughing. “Alright, Rhaegal,” he said once he was ready, anticipation curling in his belly. “Sōvegon.”

The green dragon spread his wings and leaped a few steps forward before taking off. Jon felt the knot in his gut tighten, but then, airborne, the wind against his face, he felt he did belong up here after all.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dany laughed in pure exhilaration as Balerion climbed higher and higher. Each time the dragon beat his wings made the ground grow smaller and smaller, until she could barely discern the people down there.

Bliss.

That is the sensation that came to mind. Soaring amidst the clouds, only the sun and the wind around her, no noise, no people screaming. Dany felt her eyes fill with tears at the gift this was, this magnificent magical creature taking her to a realm unknown to common men. How fortunate had the Valyrians been, to reach the sky.

She smiled, taking her hand to her bump, where she felt her child kicking wildly, as if the baby, too, felt the emotion of being airborne. Dany heard a playful growl and looked around, smiling at seeing Rhaegal flying by, Jon’s laughter ringing loudly.

“Adere, Balerion,” she commanded. (* _Faster_ ) “Let’s see who is the better rider in the skies.”

The black dragon growled, beating his wings and gaining speed so fast Dany felt the jolt. But it was accompanied by a jolt of adrenalin, her heart beating faster, so she only laughed. Rhaegal understood his brother and accepted the challenge, soon followed by Rhaellion. Dany could only laugh, delighted. After centuries, the sky above Valyria was once again booming with the song of dragons and their riders.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my beloved readers!
> 
> This chapter is smaller than the most recent ones, but I just needed to get this out tonight. It's 2:30 here but I had to finish it in order to sleep well. Guess coffee will be a loyal companion tomorrow, right!
> 
> I won't comment on season 8, because it does no exist in my world. I shall refuse every evidence and not consider this ever. Otherwise I will just barf.
> 
> Anyway, hope you've enjoyed this! Because of RL, updates might take a little longer, but don't worry my enthusiasm for this fic has gone nowhere. Now I must sleep so i'll see you next week :D


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany continue further west, Lysa has an unpleasant surprise, and the Midnight Fortress gets another guest.

Their hold was now filled with an extra trunk of books, several pieces of dragon-hide leather, several dragonbone bows (one of which Arya had immediately claimed for herself), and a handful of new (old) Valyrian steel swords (one of which Arthur had quickly put on his hip until, he claimed, he could make a quick visit to Starfall).

The greatest gift of all, second even to the saddles that made riding the dragons safer and more comfortable, was the Valyrian steel armour Oldy had gathered. Apparently, though Valyrian steel was rare, the old dragon riders used armour when their dragons went into battle. Therefore, when Oldy had first had the visions about the God of Death and that two dragon riders would visit the ruined city, over a century ago, he begun scouring the island for pieces of armour. He found three complete sets and enough pieces for another two incomplete ones. Balerion had been most put out at being fitted with his, Dany barely able to soothe him once the breastplate was in place, but, in the end, she managed to convey the idea that arrows got through skin and she didn’t want to find out if anyone could make big enough arrows to pierce the dragon’s scales. So, by the time Jon begun fastening the neck piece, the dragon was mostly resigned.

So, with all three dragons wearing armour, and only the rest of it crowding their small ship, Ser Davos took the ship through the Smoking Sea and away from the ruined city of Valyria.

“But why did you take dragonglass?” Jon later asked in their cabin, confused, looking from Arya to Gendry after his sister requested to use the empty trunk the dragons would never fit in again. “We have more than enough of it back in the mines.”

“You do, Your Grace,” the blacksmith replied. “But it’s just… I’ve had an idea and I thought to test it on the way back west. I mean, I’ll only be able to really test it after we’re back in the _Wintersong_ , since there’s no proper forge here, but it should give me several weeks of a head start. So I gathered a few pieces I could easily find in the ruins of the forge we found.”

“And by that he means that he thinks he can make Valyrian steel,” Arya said, making Gendry blush deeply.

“You found the recipe?” Dany asked, shocked. “In the old forge you two found?”

“Not quite, my queen,” Gendry said, throwing Arya a glare. She shrugged unapologetic. “By what I saw of how the forge was built and what they had around, such as in the fire pot, I got to the conclusion that they used dragonglass in the metal. I just don’t know how much or even how. That’s why I took some of it, to try.”

“I thought magic was involved in the making,” Jon said.

“It is, my king. Master Mott is one of the few men in the world who can reforge Valyrian steel, the only one in Westeros. He never formally taught me, but I remember some of the words. And maybe we can find something in one of the books, but we’re still far from needing the spells, as they are the finishing touch.”

“Also, Valyrians used dragons to fire their forges,” Arya piped in.

“We can’t have the dragons breathe on the forge of the _Wintersong_ ,” Dany said. “It would set the ship alight!”

“I don’t know that dragonfire is essential, Your Graces. This is just a trial. No one figured it out in four hundred years and it was rare and special even before the Doom. It might take me years to get there, if I ever do.”

“What I think,” Jon said, “though I loathe to play into their prejudices, is that being the man who discovered the secret to Valyrian steel might just make you worthy of a princess.”

Arya’s face was comical. “A bloody what?!”

“Language!”

“Don’t start with me, Jon! I’ll curse if I want to curse. What did you just call me?”

“A princess, obviously. You are sister to the King and Queen, what else would you be?”

“Don’t you dare do this, Jon! I don’t want to be a lady, why would you think remotely reasonable to—?”

“Court would never bad-mouth a princess, Arya, at least not openly,” Dany said with a smile. “They would point out and gossip about an un-lady-like lady, but a princess sets precedents. If you feel like inspiring other ladies to be un-lady-like.”

Arya only glared and stomped away. Dany looked at Jon, her amused smile peeking out, and he didn’t bother hiding his own chuckle.

“You may take the trunk, Gendry,” she said. “And we look forward to you presenting us with a new Valyrian steel blade.” The smith bowed and left the cabin, so Dany turned to her husband with a smile. “What was that all about?”

“Well,” Jon had a very smug smile, “she said that every time I am obnoxious, she was going to talk about having babies, to shut me up. I thought about a response.”

Dany laughed, highly amused. “Oh, my love! But if this is a tug of war, I still bet on Arya.”

“Hey!”

“She can make peace with being a princess if she must, however much she will hate it, because it will put her in a position of telling others she is right and follow her lead. You, however, will never make peace with you baby sister loving a man and having his babies.” The smugness faded from Jon’s face. “I wonder, though, how you will treat Edric now that he and Sansa are married…”

“I’m gonna go see if Arthur wants to spar,” Jon mumbled, leaving the cabin grumpily.

Dany laughed loudly again, sitting back on her berth and picking up a book. Ghost came to snuggle against her and she smiled as his soft fur crowded her.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tyrion was apprehensive, to say the least, as he and Jaime were escorted through the halls of the Eyrie. For weeks they had tried to call for their own trial, as Jaime was convinced he could win a trial by combat, but for weeks they had been denied. It didn’t take the dwarf long to realise why: they had barely been given food and, though Tyrion ate only the minimum and gave Jaime more than half his share, aware that having his big brother in shape was the best chance they had, the knight was clearly not well enough to fight.

“I’ll be fine,” Jaime had insisted just last night, his voice hoarse, deep purple bags beneath his eyes, and his face pale and sunken. “I can still put a stuffed Knight of the Vale on his back.”

“You’re being as arrogant as Joffrey,” Tyrion insisted, worried about how warm his brother’s forehead felt — the open cell to the autumn chilly winds was not good at all.

“He had to get it from someone,” Jaime mumbled before succumbing to a feverish sleep.

This morning, he was visibly feeling better, but Tyrion still knew there would be no winning any battles in his immediate future. He felt, however, slightly relieved when they walked into the Great Hall and saw Bronn standing there. And then his chin fell in shock at the knights standing next to him.

“Very well, there are the prisoners!” Lysa Arryn called from the high chair. “Now speak and leave us in peace.”

“Lady Arryn—”

“I am Lady Baelish!” she called and those in the half of the hall who were facing away from her rolled their eyes.

“My apologies, my lady,” the knight continued unflinching. He was a Starling man, Tyrion knew, and the sigil he sported made a few things very obvious. Benjen had obviously had enough on his plate. “As I said before, I come from the Blessed Island with orders to return with Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime.”

“The Lannister traitors were taken captive to answer for crimes against my family,” Lysa said, unaffected.

“My lady, I beg you to reconsider. Septa Catelyn took Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime on an unsupported claim and led them away from an unbiased trial. We beseech you to side with justice now.”

“Justice?” Lysa cackled a chilling laugh. “Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime are accused of attempting to murder my nephew, Brandon Stark, and twice! And they are also accused of poisoning Lord Jon Arryn, the late Hand of the King and Lord of the Vale. This here, in the Eyrie, is the tribunal they must face.”

Ser Gyllem visibly sighed. “With all due respect, Lady Baelish, but in matters such as this, the accusation should be brought before the Iron Throne, who is, after all, responsible for maintaining the King’s peace.”

“Robert Baratheon would never bring his good-brothers to justice. And now that Cersei Lannister is Queen Regent and Tywin Lannister is the Hand and Lord Protector—”

“Once again, Lady Baelish, with all due respect, but you misunderstood me. I come to maintain the Royal Peace in the name of King Jon of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, and Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the rightful rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Sepulchral silence descended onto the hall. Tyrion had to confess that if the first sight of the three-headed dragon sigil had surprised him, now he was absolutely astonished, given that Jon’s identity had been so secret. Now it was out in the open. However, the most startling thing was the lack of surprise from the others.

“The Vale will not join either side on this fight for the Iron Throne,” Lysa said.

“There is no fight over this matter. The Usurper’s wife calls for their release and King Jon and Queen Daenerys call for their release. It is the one matter both sides are in agreement,” Ser Gyllem said.

“Their offence is against the Vale…”

“Septa Catelyn took them due to their offence against House Stark. The King speaks in defence of his lord brother’s interest.”

“How can your King call my nephew his brother when his very crown depends on _not_ being the son of Ned Stark?”

“Brothers by life, not by blood, my lady.”

“Be that as it may, Ser, but a mother has preference over a ‘brother by life’,” Lysa said. “They were brought to the Eyrie. They will face the justice of the Vale.”

“By refusing to follow a command by the King and Queen, you defy their authority, my lady. I would ask you to reconsider.”

“There is noth—” Lysa started.

“Sister, please, perhaps you ought to think about the—” Catelyn spoke up.

“How quickly you follow Jon Starling’s commands now, sister,” Lysa sneered. “There is nothing to reconsider. The Eyrie will not take part in this fight for the Iron Throne. Recognising Jon and Daenerys Targaryen’s commands would be taking part.”

“Releasing Cersei Lannister’s brothers will be received well in the capital,” Ser Gyllem pointed out.

“They were brought to justice in the Eyrie. They will face justice in the Eyrie.”

Tyrion saw that talking would take them nowhere where Lysa Arryn was concerned. Ser Gyllem would speak until he went hoarse and wouldn’t be able to talk sense into her. He exchanged a look with Bronn, who only nodded.

“Very well, Lady Baelish,” Tyrion spoke loudly, stepping forward, “if we must face justice, then I find myself eager to prove my innocence. I call for a trial by combat.”

Lysa smiled darkly. “If you insist.” She only sat, quiet, her smile in place, and Tyrion thought she was waiting for someone to volunteer. Only silence followed. “Now, then,” Lysa continued, her smile faltering with disconcert, “which of the noble Knights of the Vale will be my champion?”

Another moment of tense silence went by. Finally, one of them stepped forward.

“For Lord Jon Arryn, I shall be the champion of the Eyrie.”

“Thank you, Ser Vardis,” the lady said, her smile soured and her face contorted with displeasure. “Someone fetch Ser Jaime a—”

“I shall name a champion as well,” Tyrion cut in. Jaime tried to intervene, but the younger brother glared at him. Bronn elbowed the knight, who stumbled and, with his lack of balance, seemed unwillingly convinced to play along.

“There will be no naming of champions,” Lysa said.

“You named yours,” Tyrion said. “And it is the law of the land even before the Seven Kingdoms were one realm. Will you defy our traditions out of pettiness, Lady Baelish?”

“I’m am not pettish!” Lysa exclaimed like a brat wanting a new toy. “Robert Baratheon set a precedent when the bastard Joffrey was sentenced to—”

“Joffrey was sentenced in a crime against honour and, as Lord Stannis brought to the Court, he might not name a champion due to the nature of his crime. Well, you and your sister accuse us of murder and two attempts of murder. This is not a crime against the honour of a lady. Therefore, Lord Stannis’ caveat finds no standing. By the ancient laws of this land, I might name my champion.”

“Lord Tyrion speaks truly,” Lord Royce said. “They may name his champion and to deny them would be our dishonour.”

Lysa bristled, furious. “Then name your champion, Imp. The fight is here and now. Will you name a Targaryen man to fight for you? How will your mighty father and whore of a sister receive this news once they reach the capital?” she sneered.

Tyrion smiled, deciding to ignore the insult in favour of getting out of this place as quickly as possible. “Good. I’m quite tired of my accommodations. Very drafty.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Benjen rubbed his forehead, deep in thought. He was no politician, and he certainly didn’t know how to deal with mad people like Lysa Baelish. Though there had been no official appointments, it stood to reason that, until Jon and Daenerys came back west, Ned would take the position as their regent. But then again, could monarchs have a regent before they won their rebellions?

It didn’t matter, at any rate — Jon had left him, Benjen, in charge of the Midnight Fortress and he knew he shouldn’t have sent out an emissary to speak for the Royal House Targaryen before they were back, but it had been a desperate attempt to cease Catelyn’s madness after Ned’s men from Moat Cailin had been denied access through the border. To not waste the effort put into the chance of getting Jaime Lannister to their side.

So Benjen had sent a raven to Lord Royce, who had managed to sneak Ser Gyllem and another handful of Targaryen men through Gulltown and the Bloody Gate. And now the knight had sent a raven informing that, “though Lady Baelish was hard to be reasoned with, Lord Tyrion managed to call for a trial by combat and Bronn won their freedom. I write from the Gates of the Moon to inform you we are on the way to Gulltown now, my lord”.

A knock on the door of his solar preceded Sam’s entrance.

“Please don’t tell me we have a problem,” Benjen groaned.

“We do not,” the secretary said. “Well, not a problem per se, I just… well, three of Lord Stannis’ ships arrived yesterday. It was after dusk, that’s why they only came upriver this morning. They were supposed to have arrived a fortnight ago, if we followed the regular shipping agreement.”

“Stannis has been dead for longer than that.”

“Yes, he has. The ships come escorted by the lieutenant of an Essosi pirate by the name of Salladhor Saan.”

Benjen frowned. “Isn’t that Davos’ friend whom Jon hired?”

“I do believe so,” Sam replied. “But the point is that they didn’t come to collect wool or anything. They brought something, rather.”

“Sam, really, just tell me.”

“The pirate heard about what happened in Dragonstone. Stopped by and offered to buy the three smaller, merchant ships. The pretender accepted — it seems he wasn’t interested in ships with no weapons on them.”

“And what is he doing here? Better yet, how does this concern me?”

“The pirate left Dragonstone with more than the ships. He managed to smuggle Selyse Baratheon with him. Her and her ladies.”

“I’ve set them on the guest wing,” Ayla said, coming into the solar. “She was most grateful at the asylum and, I must say, the opportunity to bathe.”

Benjen furrowed his brows, drumming his fingers on the desktop. “Why is she here?”

“Davos’ friends must know that, after Stannis’ death, he would serve Jon and Dany,” Sam said.

“But she is a Florent, isn’t she?” Benjen asked. “Why not go back home? And wait — where is the daughter?”

“This is where it gets interesting,” Ayla said. “Stannis sent Edric Storm, Robert’s bastard, and Davos’ three sons to take Shireen, Tommen, and Myrcella out of Dragonstone.”

“You are not serious!” Benjen snorted. “So they were _not_ in Dragonstone?”

“No,” Ayla said. “Lady Selyse won’t tell me where, but if it was Stannis, and since she said he knew the first attackers were Lannisters, he wouldn’t have sent them to King’s Landing.”

“No, he’s certainly sent them to Storm’s End. Ashara’s last letter says Varys’ little birds report Renly closing up the Stormlands — he knows his best chance right now is to wait out the war and negotiate with the winner, but if he has Tommen and Myrcella… he’s got the Lannisters.”

“And since we also know Cersei is going mad for want of her children…” Ayla continued.

“Renly got his shield, the Lannisters won’t sack Storm’s End or even attack the Stormlands so far as he’s got the two children there,” Benjen said. “But as for Selyse Baratheon… I still don’t understand why she’s here and not making her way back to the Reach. Or even Storm’s End, since her daughter is a Baratheon.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to lead anyone to where her daughter is. Also, the Dornish closed the Summer Sea on both sides, love,” Ayla said. “And she said the pretender called the Dornish to the island, what means that crossing enemy territory would be stupid. Making land at the Vale is not a good option, given Lysa Arryn’s moods, and even if so, she would need to cross the entire continent and most likely cross the Lannisters’ path. She knows, as does everyone, that the Reach will side with us, so she’s chosen the safest option.”

“So Renly’s got the future of House Baratheon and House Lannister safely ensconced within the walls of an impregnable fortress.” Benjen sighed. “Well, given that Davos will hopefully be sailing with us, I hope Renly remembered to stock up on onions.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Myrcella focused her eye on the target and took a deep breath, releasing yet another arrow. That went wildly off-target. Again. She cursed mentally.

“How does Arya get it every time?” she mumbled.

The Stark girl had begun to give the alleged princess some lessons before Joffrey’s death and Myrcella’s move to Dragonstone. While the blonde could tolerate horseback riding, she hated sparring, didn’t even know how to handle a blade really (and she really dreaded the thought of having her hands calloused), but the bow was something she rather enjoyed.

“Your timing is wrong,” came a voice from behind her.

Myrcella turned and saw Edric Storm joining her on her hidden corner of a courtyard.

“Timing of what?” she asked.

“Releasing the arrow. Are you sure a princess should be playing with bows and arrows?”

Myrcella rolled her eyes and notched another arrow, turning back to the target. “I don’t know who is the worst liar, you or Renly.”

“Don’t you mean _Uncle_ Renly?” Edric asked, leaning on the half-wall.

“You know I don’t. The same way why I shouldn’t worry about what a princess may or may not do.” She missed another arrow.

“So you’ve been listening behind closed doors?” Edric asked, amused at her aiming.

“No, there was no need for that. Guards gossip too, you know. Especially when they’re too busy thinking you’re an empty-headed princess to pay attention to what they speak in front of you.”

“Uncle Renly will be furious. He gave orders that you and your brother were not to be told.”

“Who took Dragonstone?”

“Alright, give it here, your aim is pitiful.” Edric crossed the few steps over and took the bow from her hands. “Aegon Targaryen did,” he said, testing the bow. “You’re forever doomed to miss with this, the string is too loose.”

Myrcella blushed. “I picked up one that was forgotten to the side of the armoury. But then my grandfather and Lord Stark are fighting to take it back, aren’t them? I mean, if this Aegon Targaryen killed your father.”

“There is a reason they are left forgotten to the side, did you know?” Edric chuckled. “How long have you known? That he isn’t your father?”

“Long enough.” She smiled. “How did people find out?”

“Your mother got into a fight with Ned Stark. I don’t know the specific details, but he told everybody.”

“To get Daenerys on the throne, I imagine.” Myrcella took a deep breath. “My mother will never accept it, but it is the better choice. Tommen is not fit to be king, he would be a puppet in the hands of whoever whispers more sweetly in his ears. And I really don’t want it.”

“How did you find out?” Edric insisted, working on the string.

“I was around six, I think, and I got sick. Your father never came to see me, only sent a new doll — or more likely Varys did.”

“I’d bet on Varys, too. Since I’m sure he was the one who sent me all the gifts as well.”

“He was.” Myrcella shrugged. “Anyway, _my_ father came, though, and at one point when I was half asleep I heard him whispering to me, begging me to get better and wake up, that he needed his little girl to be well. I was too young to make sense of it, I thought he meant it as his niece, but then it stuck with me. And as I grew up, I noticed the details. When I saw him and my mother kiss, I understood the truth.”

“Doesn’t it seem weird to you? That your father and mother are siblings?” He pulled the string and grimaced.

“It is what it is.” She shrugged again. “Besides, if the Targaryens can, why the hypocrisy that no one else can?”

“The Targaryens did because no one dared to go against their dragons. By the time they had no more dragons, they were too powerful for people to clash with over something that had already been accepted. Besides, it’s the nobility, what else is there _but_ hypocrisy? Here try this now.” He gave her the bow.

“It feels better,” Myrcella said and notched another arrow.

“Alright, you’re doing it wrong.” Edric stopped her.

“Doing what wrong?”

“Who taught you? Or rather, who begun to teach you but never finished?”

Myrcella blushed. “Arya Stark. We had a few lessons, but then I moved to Dragonstone and Lady Selyse wouldn’t allow it.”

“Of course she wouldn’t,” Edric snorted. “Fine, you need to position your body right. Your legs are too closed together, you need to put them apart so your stance—”

“How do my _legs_ impact releasing an arrow?”

“It isn’t something that relies only on your arms, Princess,” Edric smiled.

“I’m not a princess.”

“Fine. Do you want to learn or not?”

“Yes, please.”

They smiled at each other and Myrcella couldn’t help the butterflies in her stomach or the slight blush that crawled over her face.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Tyrion approached the edge of their camp slowly, hesitantly, almost afraid of the conversation to come. The trek here had been long and exhausting, luckily with less mountain clans, but still, he couldn’t wait to have it over with.

“We will be in Gulltown by noon,” he said.

Jaime didn’t turn, continuing to sit overlooking the valley they must descend to reach the port town.

“I hate the Vale,” the knight said. “I really, really, really hate the Vale. Though your satisfaction in introducing Bronn as your own man, not a Targaryen, almost did make it worth it. I don’t think Lysa Arryn was ever that furious in her life! My apologies: she was even more furious once Bronn won the trial by combat.”

“Lady _Baelish_ ,” Tyrion mocked the woman’s strident voice. “Honestly, we all knew she was touched in the head, but good gods, what was that we witnessed!”

“I’m not going back to King’s Landing,” Jaime said suddenly, cutting through the levity of the procrastination.

“I can’t say that I’m not very happy to hear it,” Tyrion said quietly. “What brought this sensible decision on?”

“Being a prisoner is surprisingly eye-opening,” Jaime mumbled. “Cersei is unhinged, Tyrion. After what she did to you… She heard about Catelyn Tully taking us and her reaction is to go into the city to kidnap Ashara and Sansa Stark and order the slaughter of Northern guards. Then let’s be honest and clear over whatever happened to Robert. And the asinine move of branding Ned Stark a traitor.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Our best choice now is to sue for peace and trade the Iron Throne and the capital for our lives.”

“Cersei will never yield. _Father_ will never yield,” Tyrion pointed out.

“They must.” Jaime shuddered, thinking about Myrcella and her dolls and Tommen and his cats. Fuck the crown. “They call me the stupidest Lannister, but even I can make this math, little brother. Jon and Daenerys have the North, obviously, and I’m certain the Reach will follow, given how Lady Olenna plotted Margaery’s marriage. That’s already half the realm and near all the food. Dorne is likely siding with this pretender in Dragonstone, not that they would ever side with us. The Riverlands might be persuaded to join Father — or Father will pull them onto our side by force — but their numbers are not that impressive to begin with. Lysa Arryn — Baelish — just said she is staying out of it and I’m not counting on Littlefinger manipulating her under the lion banner, not when she was that pissed at us. And if the Lords of the Vale decide anything, if they take the Regency from her, Lord Royce will be in charge and he will follow Ned Stark, so by extension, Jon and Daenerys. As for Renly, given that he is a peacock, but not stupid, he will know that he will have no support whatsoever to claim being Robert’s heir so he will likely wall himself inside Storm’s End and wait the war out.”

“A very accurate sum-up of our current political scenery. Very impressive coming from you, big brother. I know how you hate it.”

“It’s too obvious, Tyrion.” Jaime exhaled. “If I go back to King’s Landing, Father and Cersei will only architect a way to try to stay in power. But the Lannister army is not enough. Not against the North and the Reach. And gods forbid they found any mercenary companies to follow them back to Westeros.” He looked down, his heart heavy. “We don’t even have Tommen and Myrcella. They are hostages of the Targaryen pretender.”

“How are you so sure he is a pretender?” Tyrion asked.

Jaime looked up and out the ridge again, diving into the painful memories of the past.

“Elia didn’t have the chance to save the real Aegon.”

“She might have.”

“She didn’t.” Jaime sighed again. “When Rhaegar came to the Red Keep, he intended to send her and the children to Dorne, but Aerys wouldn’t have it. The Prince tried saying that Prince Lewyn was by his side, that he already commanded the Dornish army, but the Mad King was unmoveable. Not that anyone was ever able to make him change his mind. So Rhaegar and Elia plotted to have Yronwood come north with two hundred soldiers, smuggle them out of the city, and take them to Dorne. Rhaegar wanted to wait before leaving, but Elia convinced him having the rebels any closer to King’s Landing would be much more dangerous. I was to wait for Yronwood to get to the capital and escort the Princess and the children back to Dorne until Rhaegar returned from the war.”

“Except Rhaegar never returned,” Tyrion stated.

“And Father arrived before Yronwood.” Jaime went silent for a moment. “Elia knew a way out of the Red Keep, some secret way Rhaegar found in some old blueprint, but she wouldn’t tell me. After… after I killed Aerys I rushed upstairs, I was going to show them out, but the Mountain beat me to it. I know Elia didn’t smuggle baby Aegon out because she had let it scape the exit was in the Holdfast, though I don’t know where, but they were in the Maidenvault.” Jaime paused for a long moment. “I was supposed to protect them and I failed.”

“You saved the entire city, Jaime. Half a million people,” Tyrion said softly.

“I was only supposed to save three of them.”

“Rhaegar wouldn’t blame you. He knew his father and he would understand why you did what you did. Elia and the children—”

“Don’t say they were casualties of war, Tyrion. That is monstrous.”

“Robert’s throne would never have been safe if there were trueborn heirs, Jaime. You know that.”

“I do. Just like this Aegon pretender knows that his fight for the throne will be useless as long as Tommen and Myrcella are alive. How the tables have turned, haven’t they?” the knight snapped. “Father knew what sending the Mountain would mean. That was not ‘removing the complication of the heirs of the deposed family’, that was slaughter, Tyrion. And Father knew that. He did it anyway. And now this pretender will use his own ruthlessness against him to justify slaughtering my children.”

“King Jon and Queen Daenerys won’t let any harm on the children, you can…”

“They aren’t on Westeros yet, Tyrion. And they don’t have the children.”

Another moment of silence stretched.

“What are you going to do?” Tyrion finally asked.

“I failed my queen when I didn’t protect her, even if it was against the king. And I failed Rhaegar when I didn’t protect his children and former wife, as I had promised to do. All I can do now is to seek redemption.”

Tyrion smiled. “Ser Arthur always believed you, you know?”

Jaime smiled, remembering the note in his room. _There is always room for improvement_. Twenty years later, and Arthur Dayne was still teaching him lessons.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

From Valyria to Volantis, where Kinvara had been more than happy to receive them, and from there to Lys, Tyrosh, and finally they had arrived in Pentos, their final stop in Essos before crossing the Narrow Sea.

They were received in the harbour by Illyrio Mopatis, the magister who had given Daenerys the three dragon eggs as wedding gifts, and who was most shocked to see that those eggs had hatched and they were now flying on the skies above. But the magister had been most courteous, hosting them in his home and offering his knowledge of the merchants in the city to help them find the best supplies at the best prices.

Davos was beyond elated that his family was not only safe, but finally reunited in one place and heading to safety. Once they had arrived home, Dale, Maric, and their mother, Marya, had decided the Stormlands were no safe place to be, so they packed up their belongings and met up with Devan in Tyrosh to wait for their fleet to pass by. The old knight nearly keeled over once he saw his sons waiting for him at the harbour.

But Jon was uneasy. Ghost was distrustful of their host, so obviously Jon didn’t trust Illyrio either. Dany shared that opinion, though she would forever be grateful to the magister for giving her her sons. All in all, it was an uncomfortable situation, that made them want to leave Pentos as quickly as possible.

“I think it is time the dragons go back to wearing armour,” Arthur suggested as they met to discuss last arrangements before boarding the next morning.

Dany took a deep breath. Ever since re-joining the main fleet in Volantis and having enough space in their holds to keep the large pieces of armour, they had let the dragons roam free, much to their delight.

“We are not headed into battle at this very moment,” she said. “And no one in the Seven Kingdoms has a ballista big enough to harm them.”

“Yet, Your Grace,” Orys said. “I agree with Ser Arthur. And if I might be so bold, I think we should think of an armour for you as well, my queen.”

“Not this again,” she muttered.

“He has a point, Dany,” Jon cut in. “One arrow and…”

“Balerion would never let anything hurt me!”

“Dany, if they shoot an array of arrows upwards, Balerion may not have the time to avoid all of them. They’ll bounce off his hide, but if only one of them…” Jon shuddered. “One arrow is enough, Dany.”

She sighed. “And how do you propose fitting an armour on me right now?” she asked, pointing to their child.

“A hauberk and only a breastplate,” Arthur suggested. “Should be enough protection that high up anyway.”

“Before anyone says it, I’m not wearing a helmet.”

“Dany…” Jon started but she cut him off with a glare. “Fine, not for right now, but if we ever go into battle with the dragons…”

“Fine, I’ll consider it then. But for right now, we have exhausted our planning. Let us go to sleep so we can sail out early in the morning.”

“I was thinking,” Jon said once they were in their chambers, “Oldy said the dragons weren’t big enough to fly as far as home from Valyria. But I’ve been paying attention and I think maybe from here they could make it.”

“I think we should try it in the morning.” Dany smiled. — neither of them could hide the wistfulness in their voice. “We should leave the ships to continue on their way to Harrenhall and meet the soldiers there once they arrive. We’ll have a few days with the children.”

“I like the idea very much,” Jon said, pulling her into a kiss. “Besides, I really don’t want to see Aunt Ayla’s reaction if she gets to meet our baby before she ever saw you pregnant.”

Dany chuckled. “I’d rather avoid that as well!”

They kissed again, leaving a trail of clothes on the way to the bed.

When Dany woke up in the morning, her guts were still twisted with the bad feeling from her nightmare, the bad impression. _Beware the mummer’s dragon. Beware the perfumed seneschal_. The voice sounded like Quaithe’s, but why had she not said this when they had met in Volantis? Why send her riddles in her dreams?

She shivered as she pushed the furs back and stood up, goosebumps rising all over her flesh in the chilly autumn air. This was not the south of Essos anymore, the land of sun and summer and deserts.

Jon stirred, looking for her on the bed, but this far in her pregnancies she went to the privy so often that he was used to it already, so he didn’t even wake up. Dany looked out the window, the low light of the rising sun, her heart quieting. She bit her lip, thinking. _Beware the mummer’s dragon_.

Ghost was not in the room, probably left in the middle of the night to find something to eat or to run patrol, as he liked. She stole into the dressing chambers, cringing when the door groaned, but luckily Jon stayed asleep.

She dressed quickly, knowing that calling for Irri and Missandei would only get her caught, and thankful that her pregnancy prevented her from wearing corsets, so it was easier to dress herself.

“Your Grace!” The guard at the door was startled to see her. “Would you like me to fetch anyone?”

“No need. I woke up famished and decided to go for the Great Hall to break my fast early. No, no,” she said when the guard motioned to leave. “The king is still asleep, keep your post.”

“But my queen…”

“I have given you an order, Ser,” she snapped. The man nodded and resumed his stance as she left quickly down the hall.

It wouldn’t take long for people to start waking up or even for Ghost to either come after her or go back to their guest chambers and not find her in bed, then waking Jon. Or even for Arthur to get there and, being told she had left, come in search of her. So she walked as fast as she dared until she was outside, finding her way to the stables.

There was a stable boy sleeping against one of the stalls and he was quick to saddle her silver, bowing and never asking a question. Dany mounted quickly and sent the horse cantering towards the nearby clearing where Balerion could land. She smiled, petted his snout as a good morning gesture, and climbed onto the saddle. She had a truth to uncover.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Aegon was not happy. He had come to Westeros with very clear goals: Dragonstone, alliance with Dorne, marry Daenerys, get the Iron Throne. He had reasoned that, if getting the North meant not getting rid of Jon Starling, he would allow it, as long as his aunt deemed it a reasonable sacrifice for herself. But things were not at all going to plan.

He had taken Dragonstone, and counted with a superb stroke of luck while doing it, he knew that. If the Lannisters hadn’t already been at battle with Stannis Baratheon, then Aegon’s fleet would have had a lot more work. His alliance with Dorne was too slow on the making, it was true, but finally Uncle Oberyn was here and seemed convinced Aegon was the real deal.

But he had not — could not — have anticipated the existence of his little brother. A little brother disguised as a Northern bastard, raised in safety away from everyone’s eyes, and already married to the last Targaryen Princess. A bride that should have been his by rights of primogeniture. Because if the Usurper hadn’t interfered, Aegon would have been raised as the heir to the throne and Daenerys would have always been his. If before he had wanted to marry his aunt to protect her from an unwanted match and to give more legitimacy to his claim, now more than ever he needed her to say her wedding was an unwanted imposition, so he could have her.

“Son?” Connington called, coming into the room. “There were whispers from the Stormlands.” The self-proclaimed king didn’t move. “Aegon? What is it?”

“The Velaryons claimed their ships were actually more damaged when the Lannisters passed by than they had first imagined and therefore their arrival would be delayed,” he answered after a long moment. “That damned raven is already presenting its damage. The Crownlands are turning to little brother.”

“They still aren’t back in Westeros, son—”

“And already their allied base is better than ours, Father. Our hope, our _need_ was to gather as many lords under the dragon banner as possible, not to be in conflict with another Targaryen contender.”

“I know that, Aegon. But this is what happened. Moaning about it won’t help. We need to present a better case to try and win the Westerosi over. We need to get this alleged little brother of yours under your thumb. We can still do it.”

“I’m not trusting their willingness to step down, Father.”

“What does that mean?” Connington asked, frowning, worried again.

But before Aegon could answer, there was a loud growl from outside, a queer and loud sound, quickly followed by the flap of large leathery wings. He stepped further in the direction of the open ledge of the Chamber of the Painted Table, looking out for the source, his chin falling open as the huge black and red blur burst out from the clouds.

“That’s impossible!”

But Connington noticed another detail: the small white-haired figure on the beast’s back. That, he realised, would either be their doom, if the Seven Kingdoms bowed to their might, or their salvation, if the lords got afraid of their power.

“Aegon, wait!” he called out, but the younger man didn’t listen, running out of the room and down the staircases to get outside.

Dany had Balerion circle above the castle one more time, until she saw her alleged nephew bounding out of the castle, then directed the dragon to land on a clifftop, far enough from the building that no archers could try and be funny. She dismounted and stood petting Balerion’s snout until Aegon marched over, slightly out of breath.

“That is a dragon,” he said, still shocked.

“Yes, he is.” Dany smiled. “His name is Balerion. What is yours?”

Aegon’s eyes flared in both annoyance and awe, jealousy sparkling visibly. Jon Connington joined them, also out of air after running over.

“I presume you are my aunt Daenerys.”

“Am I?” she asked. “You claim to be my brother’s son. What proof do you have?”

“Proof?” Aegon exclaimed. “I am the blood of the dragon, can’t you see that?”

“I see a man with the Valyrian look.” Dany shrugged. “You might be aware that in Essos a few people still share that look. We knew nothing of you until now.”

Aegon was not happy. “I was smuggled out of the Red Keep by loyalists.”

“And secrecy was imperative,” the other man said, “or the Usurper would have sent assassins after him.”

“Lord Connington, I presume. Or, I believe, not a lord anymore after my father exiled you and gave your land and title to your cousin.”

“The Usurper exiled him. Because he was my father’s best friend.”

Dany smiled. “I have heard differently.”

“From the Starks? The ones who fought _with_ the Usurper to take our family’s throne?” Aegon sneered.

“Lord Connington, my uncle is certain that, since you were such a good friend to my brother, if this is a con, you are also being conned. He believes you would never jest with Rhaegar’s memory as such. He does so hate to be wrong,” Dany said, looking at the lord seriously.

“Uncle? Which uncle? We don’t have an uncle.” Aegon was very confused, also turning to his foster father.

“I do, as a matter of fact,” Dany said, thinking of Uncle Aemon with a fond smile. “But I apologise. I meant one of my uncles by marriage. He is the lord brother of my foster father’s lady wife. You have certainly heard of him. Well, you met him enough times, Lord Connington.”

Connington frowned. A man he had met enough times and who would know him and refuse to believe he would ever betray Rhaegar. In a realm filled with betrayal and backstabbing, it meant this man must have known him well enough. Her foster father was Eddard Stark, who was married to a commoner. But also, one who had been quite public with his affections at Harrenhall. Who had fled King’s Landing and sought refuge at Starfall. She couldn’t mean _him_ , could she?

“Who is this man who makes assumptions about my foster father?” Aegon demanded.

“Ser Arthur Dayne.”

“Arthur is dead,” Connington said. “Lord Stark killed him in Dorne.”

“He didn’t.” Dany smiled, giving no other explanation. “But we digress. What proof do you have that you are indeed my nephew? Other than being raised in Essos by an old friend of Rhaegar’s, a disgraced lord exiled before the Sack?”

“I told you, I was rescued by loyalists!”

“Which loyalists? Ser Willem Darry had been in Dragonstone at the time, a fact corroborated by how he smuggled Viserys out of here as my lady mother went into labour. No one ever heard of Prince Aegon, Princess Elia’s son, leaving the Red Keep. No rumours, no whispers, no indication whatsoever.”

“My dear aunt, you must understand, secrecy is what kept me alive. I grew up unknowing the truth, but ever since it was unveiled, all I have thought of and worked for is to restore our House’s rights. After I was made aware of how the Usurper shamed and humiliated you, I have put all my efforts in trying to—”

“Oh, in the name of the gods!” Dany exclaimed. “What is wrong with you men and thinking you need to rescue me? I don’t need to be rescued, I don’t want to be rescued! I am quite capable of fighting my own battles, even before Balerion hatched!”

“The Usurper—”

“Robert Baratheon thought to be, as you said, humiliating and shaming me. He never did. Even before we discovered the truth, I was happy and honoured to be married to Jon. There is no better husband in all of Westeros. There is nothing about my life I would change. But, again, I ask: what proof do you have that you are indeed my nephew?”

“I could ask you the same,” Aegon said, now feeling his fury climb. “What proof does your bastard husband have that he is my brother? If he was hidden as a northern nobody, it’s because he does not look like a dragon!”

Dany only smiled. She had felt that same feeling, that same warmth, the closer Balerion got to the island. She remembered Uncle Aemon’s words: ‘magic calls for magic, dragon blood calls for dragon blood’. The castle was strange to her, she had not been to these shores ever since Stannis Baratheon had taken her, a newborn babe, to the capital so the Usurper could decide her fate. But there was something about the place… There had been nothing about this man. This man in front of her was no dragon. She had thought she was still feeling the influence of the land around them, but then she felt the tugging.

“I don’t think you will like my answer,” she said.

And not a moment later Rhaegal burst from behind the clouds, emerald and bronze against the shining sun, growling loudly and prompting Balerion. Aegon and Connington looked up, even more shocked now.

“How many dragons do you have?” Aegon asked with a weak voice. But then Rhaegal banked and they could see the rider on his back. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it.” Dany smirked as the green dragon landed next to them. Jon’s face was contorted into a grumpy frown, and she knew they would argue about her reckless, spur-of-the-moment decision to come here alone. Behind him, Arthur looked even more furious.

“Connington,” the Kingsguard greeted once he and Jon had climbed down from Rhaegal’s back. “The rumours certainly exaggerated your death.”

“I could say the same of you,” the red-headed man said through clenched teeth. He looked over the younger man, trying to recognise anything of Rhaegar in him. But there was nothing. As Aegon had said, if Jon Starling looked anything like the man he claimed to be his father, the Usurper would have had him killed long ago. “You cannot tell me you believe the raven Eddard Stark sent around the Kingdoms.”

“I don’t need to believe Eddard Stark,” Arthur said. “Even if I do trust my lady sister’s husband. I was there. The High Septon married Rhaegar and Lyanna and she carried and birthed their son. After she perished in childbed, Lord Stark and I agreed secrecy was best.”

“And as usual, you were too busy bragging about your sword skills to counsel Rhaegar against a stupid decision!” Connington sneered.

“And as usual you’re too busy thinking about your own self to care about Rhaegar’s opinion and not what you thought right,” Arthur snapped back.

“That girl was his doom!” Connington insisted.

“Princess Lyanna was the love of his life,” Arthur stated. “She made him happy in a way I had never even imagined possible before.”

“She was—”

“Enough bickering!” Aegon exclaimed. “So you want me to believe my father set my mother aside and disinherited me and my sister in favour of another wife and another son?” Aegon asked, his ears flaming red.

“He never disinherited anyone,” Arthur said. Aegon clenched his jaw, noticing that the Kingsguard didn’t refer to _him_.

“Are you really my brother?” Jon asked.

“I am the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. You are a Northern bastard whom the Lord of Winterfell is trying to have crowned because he put you in a whore’s belly on a convenient date.”

Jon was furious, but his reaction didn’t compare to Rhaegal’s, who growled loudly, shaking the ground and startling both Aegon and Connington into stepping back. The dragon bared his big sharp teeth threateningly and didn’t stop his rumbling even when Jon set a hand on his snout and murmured “sȳrī issa”. ( _It’s alright_ ).

“I don’t know what Lord Connington has been teaching you all these years,” Dany said, “but it is common knowledge between those who have studied dragon lore that only Valyrian blood may bond with a dragon. Only a true Targaryen can ride a dragon.”

“Arthur has no Valyrian blood. And he arrived here on the back of a dragon,” Connington pointed out.

“He came as a passenger,” Jon said. “Because I requested Rhaegal to allow him. But this is all irrelevant.”

Connington was upset. While he hadn’t read much on dragon lore himself, he had spent enough time as Rhaegar’s friend to remember what Daenerys now said. How Rhaegar had explained that the incestuous practices in his family were all rooted in the idea of preserving the magic in their blood.

“Fancy rides,” came an amused voice from the direction of the castle. Arthur rolled his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath. “Though I must say, it feels nice to be able to call you Artie again.”

“You knew he was alive?!” Aegon asked. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Yes, I knew,” Oberyn shrugged. “You never asked.”

Aegon seemed ready to continue the argument, but Connington cleared his throat.

“What I believe is more pressing now,” he said, “is what brings you to Dragonstone this morning.”

“Before we go there, actually,” Oberyn cut in, “you can tell that wilful daughter of mine that I got her last letter and she should remember that Dorne doesn’t take kindly to traitors. I will remember what she wrote if she ever thinks to try and come back.”

“You would turn on your own blood?” Arthur asked, keeping his mask firmly in place.

“Oh, Artie! As Ashara said, the marks that mark our youth stay forever on our skin. I am standing by my blood now. If my blood can’t accept that, I shall not forgive.”

“Well, you were always a practical man, Oby,” Arthur said.

“Enough!” Aegon exclaimed. “What do you want, why are you here?”

“You said you were my nephew,” Dany said. “We came to see whether it is true.”

“It _is_ ,” Aegon snapped, nearly stomping his feet.

“No, it isn’t,” Dany said. “You are no dragon. There is no magic in your blood.”

Jon felt the flare of his connection to Ghost on the back of his mind. The direwolf had stayed with Arya in the _Wintersong_ , since he couldn’t very well ride on Rhaegal, but the warning was sharp enough to unsettle even the dragon. Balerion also got anxious.

“My queen, we should go,” Jon said. He poked the bond with Ghost and she tensed when she saw the ruby red eyes flash as he warged for a moment. “ _Now_ ,” Jon insisted.

“We look forward to getting your terms of surrender,” Dany said.

“Dragonstone is mine,” Aegon said. “I am the rightful king by right of primogeniture.” Balerion growled. “Control your beast, Aunt.”

“Well, now, then.” Dany sneered. “How is a dragon afraid of a dragon?” She exchanged a look with Jon once they were mounted. “Sōvegon.”

Both dragons took off, leaving the three men on the ground scrambling to keep their balance with the strength of the wind their wings made. Dany kept Balerion above so Rhaegal would take the lead and her knuckles went white as she squeezed her hands around the spikes in front of her when she saw the direction Jon went.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed this one and, as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts in form of comments and kudos. Still working on answering comments, I'll catch up eventually guys, I promise!


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany deal with the threat while Cersei gets some very bad news.

Benjen folded the far-eye, taking a deep breath. He was still out of sorts after riding hard to get here and the news didn’t alleviate his worry.

“There are three ships,” he said.

“Three warships,” Nyros returned.

Benjen turned to the knight. He was a tall man with dark, black hair and hazel eyes that were usually kind, despite his skill and strong warrior frame. He was the Lord Commander of the Watchtower at Southpoint, responsible for the southern coastal defence and Benjen knew his martial skill could be trusted.

“Three of them at them at any rate,” Benjen said. “However troublesome they might be, they have to have known three ships wouldn’t be able to take the whole island. Even with a big part of our fleet gone with the king.”

“We sent ravens to the other watchtowers and command posts across the island, my lord,” the knight informed. “They have all replied and so far no sightings. Loporio did say they increased security even more.”

“We’re spread too thin,” Benjen complained. “We can’t guard every mile of the coast. And we are stronger on the sea than on land. If they slip by us and get a camp, they can march up to the castle in under a fortnight. We can hold the Fortress, but what damage won’t they do?”

Midnight sat on his haunches next to the man and howled loudly. A moment later, Lady and Shaggydog howled back. Benjen patted the wolf’s shoulder, feeling slightly better. He knew he alone had heard the howling from the Fortress, but at least Ayla would know the threat wasn’t so immediate.

“Let’s go back inside,” Benjen called. “I want to look at some maps.”

A couple hours later, he was pushing pieces around a map of the Blessed Island when Midnight leapt up and scratched the door to go out. Knowing better than ignoring, Benjen followed the wolf down to the courtyard and his chin fell in shock.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Lyanna woke up warm and cocooned in her furs, her little arms wrapped around a now hot Blue. Everything was as it was every other morning. Except for the direwolf on her bedside, staring at her. She furrowed her little brows. Ever since Nymeria had left with Auntie Arya, Lyanna had been sleeping alone, but now Lady was here, looking at her expectantly.

And then the girl felt it. The little body squirming against her. She gasped, looking down and seeing the small puppy looking up at her with bright blue eyes. She turned back to Lady.

“Mine?”

The she-wolf only nosed the puppy further down the bed, licked Lyanna’s hand, and turned away to leave.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Rhaegal had barely taken off when Arthur yelled over the wind: “where is the alarm coming from?”

“Home!” Jon yelled back. He felt his heart racing throughout the entire ride. It felt like a thousand days before the Midnight Fortress finally appeared, black cut against the clear blue autumn sky. A few more miles in, the ships headed to the island were also visible.

Jon whistled, getting Dany’s attention. She had been focused on the castle, her heart filled to the brim with soul-wrenching fear. She hadn’t seen her babies in several moon turns and now they were in danger! Jon pointed to Dany, then to the castle, then to himself and the ships. She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. On the one hand, two dragons would take out the ships faster, but on the other, what if someone had already made it to the Fortress? She nodded and prompted Balerion north.

Jon had Rhaegal bank and descend, cutting through the sky sharply and biting back a chuckle as he heard Arthur curse behind him, scrambling to keep his seat.

“I certainly do not belong in the skies,” the knight complained.

“He won’t drop us!” Jon said with a smile.

“I wish I shared that confidence!”

Jon only laughed, poking Rhaegal into speeding up. “Targaryen sails!” he yelled a moment later. “The fucking cunt!”

“Are you going to stop them?” Arthur asked.

“Well, they’re not going to get any closer to shore!” Jon had Rhaegal lower even more until the crow’s nest of the leading ship was within screaming distance. “Do you come with a white flag?” he yelled.

“We surrender!” the sailor replied and pointed to the deck. The captain was down there, waving a white flag and Jon smiled inside.

“Get to shore unarmed or I’ll come back. And I don’t think your wooden ships will fare well against us!” Jon directed Rhaegal upwards again and, as soon as they were in a safe enough distance, yelled: “Dracarys!”

The dragon breathed a torrent of fire as they went, getting terrified screams from the men in the ships below. Furious, but appeased, Jon directed Rhaegal to the watchtower.

“Now that is something!”

Jon smiled widely, jumping down from the saddle, rushing over.

“Uncle Benjen!” They hugged tightly.

“My nephew riding a bloody dragon! That’s not something you see every day.”

“From now on, you will,” Jon joked.

“I saw you had a chat with the ships,” Benjen nodded towards the sea. “Since the fireball was to the sky and not to them, can I assume they’ll surrender?”

“Well, they are not entirely stupid,” Arthur said, clasping hands with him in greeting.

“Your Grace,” Nyros bowed. “Welcome home, my king.”

“Thank you, my lord. I must follow the queen to the Fortress, but I trust you and your men will be more than capable to handle the surrender.”

“Certainly, Your Grace. We have a walled camp to keep groups of smugglers, I shall keep them there until I hear how to proceed.”

“Thank you, Ser Nyros,” Jon said. “I will try to return in the morning to deal with them. Uncle, would you like a ride home?”

Benjen stared at Rhaegal, who had settled on the ground and was currently picking at his claws. “I think I’ll ride back. Like, on my horse.”

“Don’t blame you,” Arthur muttered, making Jon roll his eyes.

“Come on, Dany misses you. It’s going to take only a few moments. And Rhaegal won’t drop you.” Benjen swallowed dry but nodded. “It’s amazing, Uncle, I promise!”

“You know, I bet Arya was very excited about this,” Benjen said as they walked over. Arthur only snorted.

“She was begging for a ride the moment she saw them,” Jon answered. “Even before they were big enough to ride.”

“How did they get this big?” Benjen asked, frowning.

“We went to Valyria,” Jon said, smiling. “Which reminds me, we had to leave Pentos in a hurry, but there is a little something we got in the ruins for you.”

“Don’t tell me…”

“All important Houses have one, Uncle. How could I not bring you one?” Jon said. “Come on, mount up.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dany looked attentively to the land beneath them as Balerion flew, looking for any approaching hostiles, but the path home was clear. She thanked the gods that the castle was originally a Valyrian building, though.

“I suppose that is why they called this the Dragon Tower, dearest,” she said. The dragon landed on the terrace and as Dany dismounted a handful of guards burst out the door to the battlements across the bridge to the main building of the castle. They were all in awe of Balerion, chins fallen and amazed faces.

“My queen,” Rellos greeted after a moment. “It is a great pleasure and my utmost honour to welcome you home. Especially as I can see you are unharmed.”

“Thank you, Rellos. The king is overseeing a problem on the southern coast, but he should be home soon. No threats here, are there?”

“No, my queen, nothing here,” the Captain said. “We got a raven, though, and Lord Crystark is at Southpoint now, Your Grace.”

“Good, good. Where are my children?” She didn’t wait for an answer and nearly marched down the corridors, her heart beating fast as she walked as fast as she could without running.

“Mama! Mama, you’re home!”

“Lya!” Dany felt tears filling her eyes as she knelt down and the girl jumped into her arms. She laughed and cried in her elation, kissing all over the laughing face of her daughter.

“Mama! I missed you, Mama! I knew Papa would find you! Where is Papa?”

“He is coming. He stopped to talk to Uncle Benjen really fast. But Mama came to see you! Where are your brothers?”

“Auntie was getting them. I saw you, Mama, that was a dragon, Mama!”

“It is, little love. Let me look at you. Oh, how much you grew!”

“Don’t worry, Mama, I’m still small. I will still stay here for much much time. No leaving to be in another castle!”

Dany chuckled and sobbed at once. “Oh, my sweet princess!” Then Dany noticed they weren’t alone. “And who is this?” she asked with a smile.

“My puppy!” Lyanna exclaimed as the little she-wolf yapped and tried to bite Dany’s shins. The woman laughed, patting her head fondly. “Mama, how come I’m a princess now? Auntie said it’s because you are a queen and Papa is a king, so I’m a princess and Aemon and Addam are princes. But how? I thought the King was Grandpa’s rude friend.”

“I will explain, love, let’s just find your brothers, all right?” Dany stood up and Lya poked her bump.

“Mama! I have another sibling, Mama!”

“You will, little love. How do you like that?”

“Yay!!! I’m so happy, Mama! But, Mama, can I have a sister now? I love Addam and Aemon, but I have two brothers. I want a sister now, Mama!”

Dany chuckled. “Well, like we told you when Aemon was in Mama’s tummy, we can’t choose, Lya.”

“I remember.” Lya scrunched up her little face. Then she stopped and poked Dany’s bump again. “Please be a girl, baby. You can play with my dolls until Mama and Papa buy new ones for you. And we can have tea in the dollhouse!”

Dany chuckled, fresh tears rushing down as she kissed Lya before taking her hand and leading her further down the corridor. Another loud yell of “Mama!” announced Little Addam as he too ran down the corridor from the other end.

“No jumping!” Lya said, putting herself in the way. “Mama has a baby in her tummy again!”

“Really!” Addam smiled widely as he slowed down and carefully hugged Dany, making her cry even more. “I missed you, Mama!”

“So did I, my love!” Dany pulled him into a tighter hug. “Were you brave while Mama and Papa were away?”

“I was, Mama!” Addam tapped the buckle of his toy sword, wrapped around his little torso. “I protected Lya and Aemon. And I’m teaching Lya!”

“Is that so?” Dany asked.

“It’s kind of boring, but it’s alright,” Lya said, shrugging.

“And we are full of new companies!” Dany exclaimed, seeing another puppy coming with her son.

“Mama, can we see the dragon?” Lyanna asked, excited.

“Let’s just find your— oh!” Dany gasped. Ayla was coming now, hand in hand with a little boy, who looked at her with eager violet eyes.

Dany felt her eyes fill with tears. When she had been taken, moons and moons ago, Aemon had been much, much smaller, confined to crawling or rolling around. Now his chubby little legs were gingerly walking.

“Mama?”

“Oh, my love!” She rushed over, picking him up and hugging him tightly. “Oh, how big you are, my sweet little love!”

“Mama,” the boy said, hugging her back just as tightly and burrowing his face in her neck.

Dany didn’t even register new footsteps coming until Lya, in her very exuberant way, yelled loudly: “Papa!” She turned around, not relaxing her hold on her youngest son, to see Jon rushing the last few steps and taking both Lyanna and Addam into his arms. Smiling, not even making sense of the children’s excited blabbering, Dany walked over.

“Big hug!” Lya exclaimed.

“Family hug!” Little Addam called, already pulling Dany and Aemon closer.

She looked at Jon, her heart soaring with love as he did his best to pull everyone closer together while still holding the children. Time was a different idea then, relative or not at all, and Daenerys only wanted to stay there, frozen in the moment forever.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The children had, obviously, been too excited to let the adults have a moment alone. It had been a very exciting day, starting with Lady distributing her litter, then Jon and Dany coming back with dragons. Lyanna barely waited until her parents had greeted her aunt before pulling them outside to the tower so she could “say hello to the dragon”. Addam eagerly endorsed the idea and Aemon joined the chorus with a simple “dwagon aye”. Arthur didn’t bother hiding his guffaw.

Jon nearly chuckled when, on their walk over, Ayla used the fact the children were running ahead, to pull on his and Dany’s arms.

“If either of you have a stupid idea or if you even think about giving into their puppy dog eyes, I wont care about your crowns!”

“I just think…” he started, but she levelled him with a glare.

“Just because you now know her name doesn’t change the fact that she did put me in charge of you, so I do get to tell you to stop being stupid. And I don’t think even she would dare putting a four-year-old girl and a three-year-old boy on the back of a dragon.”

“If she were certain about the saddle…” Benjen started getting a glare from his wife. “What? I knew my sister! As long as Jon was safe on the saddle, she wouldn’t think twice!”

“Thank the gods Rhaegar would be more cautious,” Arthur mumbled.

“If we can get the saddles…” Jon started, ignoring the pang of longing that now accompanied every mention of Lyanna Stark.

“I am being very serious, Jon Targaryen!” Ayla seethed through her teeth. He tried to hide how he stiffened at the name, but obviously Ayla caught it.

“Hi, dragon!” Lyanna yelled at the door.

Amused, Dany walked over, smiling as she saw Rhaegal as flattened to the ground as he could go, content to let the children pet him all over his face.

“His breath is warm, Mama!” Little Addam said.

“Well, he does breath fire, doesn’t he?” Dany said.

But Lyanna had seen the saddle. “Can we—”

“Time for tea!” Ayla called. “Come on, I’m sure we are all eager to hear Papa and Mama’s stories about their time in the far cities of Essos.”

“Can’t we—” the girl tried again.

“And of course, the stories about the horselords who helped Mama get free,” Ayla added. The other adults hid their smiles as Lyanna stiffened.

“Horselords, Mama? Like, lords of the horsies?”

“Yes, little love. Their leader commanded a hundred thousand horselords and their god was the Great Stallion.”

“A big horsie?” Lyanna asked, excited.

“A very big horsie,” Dany agreed.

“Was he a warrior, Mama?” Addam asked.

“Yes, he was a very good warrior. But he didn’t use a sword like yours, sweetie. He used an arakh. It’s a curved sword.”

“Really?”

And like that, the children were interested enough in coming back inside and listening to the stories. They were joined by Rickard, Willam, their new puppies, and the twins, then Sam brought Little Sam and Little Jon over, saying Gilly was still resting given that Little Melessa had been born just the day before. They had all joined the fun, obviously, but had gone to sleep in their regular times, but not the Targaryens.

It was only well into the evening that all three of them finally went to sleep. Aemon went first, climbing on Dany’s lap and succumbing to his own exhaustion too quickly. Addam and Lyanna were showing clear signs of tiredness, but the little princess was too stubborn to let go. But then Addam pulled Jon to spar for the hundredth time that day and Ayla took the chance to pull the girl onto her lap and hum quietly as she braided her hair — Lyanna was asleep in moments, curled up on her aunt’s lap, her puppy curled up in hers. And then, last one, Addam was yawning in between jabs with his toy sword, so Jon sat him on the floor, claiming to want to show him how to properly clean his ‘blade’ and the boy fell asleep almost as soon as he crossed his legs.

All of the children safely tucked into their beds and cribs in their nursery rooms, the adults gathered in Jon and Dany’s solar to catch up in the events that had happened in the past five moons.

“And then Dany had to be beyond reckless and sneak out in the middle of the night to fly over to Dragonstone — alone — to confront this alleged Aegon Targaryen,” Jon said at the end of his tale, glaring at his wife.

“I didn’t sneak out and it wasn’t in the middle of the night. I woke up at dawn and I decided to go. I merely didn’t call anyone.”

“You told the guard at our door that you were going to break your fast.”

“Because otherwise he would call you or send for Arthur and we would argue,” she insisted.

“Because it was a stupid, reckless plan, Dany!” Jon exclaimed. “Did you even consider how I would feel having Arthur burst into our bedchambers just after dawn to tell me you were seen leaving the manor and then Balerion was spotted flying across the sea? Or did you just think that I would be very relaxed to wake up and find out my pregnant wife was not even in the same continent anymore?”

“Balerion would protect me,” she said, slightly embarrassed.

“I thought we had agreed only last night that one single arrow would be enough, Dany. Neither you nor Balerion were armoured.”

“And we also talked about how there is no ballista capable of harming Balerion right now!” she exclaimed.

“And by introducing this pretender to Balerion and Rhaegal you only gave him extra time to develop a ballista that can hurt your dragons,” Arthur said. “Word from Essos would take weeks to reach Westerosi shores yet, by which time we would all be already gathered in Harrenhall. Now he’s got a head start.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference when we actually faced him in battle,” Dany insisted.

“And whatever battle you expect to be joining, you had better mean that it will be in two moons time,” Ayla said. Then she narrowed her eyes at Dany. “Two and a half. Three, if you want time to properly recover, which I’m sure you won’t.”

“So, you never said, is this Aegon Targaryen a pretender or not?” Benjen asked, smiling as he watched his wife still fussing over their niece and nephew.

Jon sighed and shrugged, aggravated with the change in subject, but more than happy with the motherly affection.

“He is not,” Dany stated clearly, insistently. “There is no magic in him.”

“Having no magic doesn’t mean he isn’t my brother, Dany,” Jon pointed out regretfully.

“Maybe.” She rolled her eyes. “But we do have in very good authority the reason why a Targaryen would have been stripped of magic, don’t we?” A moment of pregnant silence went by.

“He isn’t Elia’s son,” Arthur finally cut in. “I don’t know if Connington is aware, I do think he isn’t, but that boy is not your brother, Jon.”

“How can you be sure?” Benjen asked.

“Because of what Oberyn said: ‘the marks that mark our youth’. The real Aegon had a scar on his left lower leg. He was six moons old when Elia deemed Viserys old enough to hold him — he was around four if I’ve got my dates right, so she thought that putting Aegon in his arms as he was sitting on an armchair would be safe. But Viserys didn’t like Aegon, he had disliked the boy from the moment they were introduced. Probably because Viserys was no longer the only boy around or because everyone was fawning over Aegon whereas Viserys had been the sole centre of attention before. In short, Aegon got hurt with the toy and then Viserys let him fall to the floor. Elia didn’t manage to get to him on time. As he fell, the wooden point of the toy cut into his leg. I remember that very clearly, because Elia was furious, Rhaegar was worried, and Viserys was smug as Aegon cried his lungs out. And then Pycelle screwed up and didn’t clean the wound properly and left a tiny little sliver of wood behind and it got infected and Rhaegar nearly took his head right there. The Grand Maester lucked out in that Aerys thought it was Aegon’s ‘Dornish weakness’ that prompted the infection and that he never even contemplated the fact that Viserys had done anything. But it was an ugly scar. However faint, I’m sure it left at least a smudge behind. That’s what Oberyn meant.”

“Well, that solves one problem for us.” Dany was glad.

“Then what is Prince Oberyn still doing in Dragonstone?” Jon asked.

“Either Doran told him to stay there and pretend it is true in order to have Dornish influence in the future Court or Oberyn is plotting something.”

“Would Prince Doran do it? Disregard his sister’s and nephew’s memory for a power grab?” Jon asked.

Arthur sighed. “Doran is quite a few years older. He never played with us much growing up. I know him, though not like Oberyn and Elia. But I know he is ambitious. Their mother and Joanna Lannister were friends and they once plotted to have Jaime married to Elia. But when the Martells arrived in Casterly Rock to talk about making the alliance official, Joanna had just died. Tywin, filled with grief, snubbed Elia and said she wasn’t worthy of Jaime, but she could have Tyrion. That’s when relations between Lannisters and Martells began to sour. Then Aerys snubbed Cersei in favour of Elia and we all know what happened in the Sack. Maybe the illusion of his nephew will be enough as long as the lions fall, where Doran is concerned. All I know is: if Oberyn is in Dragonstone, he is plotting. And if he sent me that message, it is because he decided the risk was worth it.”

“So Prince Oberyn is on our side?” Dany asked, a smile spreading.

“Most likely.” Arthur sighed.

“What if Oberyn is playing you?” Benjen asked.

Arthur went silent for a moment. “Nothing is impossible,” he said hesitantly. “But I don’t think he would. He could have said nothing, but he decided to give me a coded warning. And besides, if he really was playing me, he would have kept quiet on Sarella’s behalf, so she would go back to Dorne, instead of warning me through another coded message to keep her away from there.” He exhaled heavily. “But still, even if I got all the facts right, his support won’t come for free. He will want Elia honoured and the Mountain. At least.”

“The Mountain murdered my brother and sister,” Jon said.

“Yes, Jon, your siblings,” Dany started softly. “But as much as they are your blood, _our_ blood, you never knew them. I’m not saying it is any less criminal or any less heinous, but you never knew Rhaenys or Aegon. Prince Oberyn did. He knew them and he knew, he loved, he has a lot of memories — a lot of _happy_ memories with Princess Elia. And she wasn’t only killed, she was forced to watch her son be slaughtered and then she was brutalised and raped and murdered. This not a competition over who deserves more justice, but he is putting memories to rest. It isn’t only only justice for him.”

“Dany has a point,” Benjen said as Jon nodded.

“Well, you can have a point while you go to grab some long-needed sleep,” Ayla cut in. “And I’ll go into the kitchens and organise a hearty meal, the two of you are too thin! And pale! Honestly, who has been feeding you?”

“Oh, Aunt, how much I missed you!” Dany laughed.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon was standing on his balcony, waiting for Dany to come to bed, when a knock made him look back towards the door.

“Rellos has put six guards on the outer doors and another six by the service door,” Arthur said. “I’m assuming you’re staying in for the night, so I can go to sleep too.”

Jon chuckled. “Aye, I’m staying in now. You know, there’s a reason why we have several men in the household guard.”

“I know. And they had to pass by mine and Rellos’ scrutiny before being hired, but they still aren’t Kingsguards.”

“We’ll need to name a few more. I expect Ser Barristan left the capital, but there’s only two of you now.”

“Please don’t trade spots for political favours,” Arthur said. “The Kingsguard is more than an honour guard, it’s supposed to be the best line of defence for you and your family. Don’t turn it into the joke Robert Baratheon did.”

“I won’t,” Jon promised. “There is nothing I take more seriously than my family’s safety.”

Arthur smiled and nodded. Then he walked over and leaned on the doorjamb across from Jon. “Are you leaving in the morning or waiting a few days?” he asked quietly.

Jon blushed and looked back out the balcony. “I want to go right now,” he answered just as quietly, not surprised the knight knew him so well. “I just… I…”

“No one would judge you, Jon. But she isn’t going anywhere. Your children just got you back, stay with them a while longer. It’s what she’d tell you to do.”

“I could be there and back in the morning.”

“And then sleep the entire day. Besides, do you really mean to go there in a rush?”

Jon sighed. Then he reached into the vase next to the balcony door and took a winter rose, rolling it between his fingers.

“She was always right there.”

“Like she always will be,” Arthur said. “Go to sleep. Go riding — _horseback_ riding — with the children in the morning, spend time as a family before you have to leave for war. She hated living in the past. She wouldn’t thank you for neglecting your present, your children, to stand before a statue and wonder ‘what if’.”

Jon nodded and the knight begun to leave.

“Arthur, wait. I never thought to ask but… How did he find winter roses as far as Harrenhall? They only grow in Winterfell. And now here, because we’ve brought them over. By what you told me, there was no time for him to have them brought south. So how did he get that garland?”

“Your father Ned knew how much your mother loved them. So he asked your grandfather to send a few saplings over, so Robert could have them grown in Storm’s End, so she would always have them near. Robert didn’t worry too much about it, they were left forgotten with his trunks. But then your father began searching for something to give your mother to commemorate her bravery and he came across the winter roses and he had the garland made. And then you know the rest.”

“A hell of a detail to care about,” Jon mumbled.

“Aren’t the details the most important part of every story?” the knight asked rhetorically, finally leaving the bedchamber and a pensive king behind.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Cersei rushed through the corridors in a manner most unbecoming of her crown and position, but she was in too much of a hurry to care. She burst through the door to the solar on the Tower of the Hand to find her father standing at the balcony and staring out into the city. Given the pile of paperwork to go through, she imagined he was trying not to rip some letter apart.

“Jaime sent a raven?” she asked.

“He did,” Tywin said through clenched teeth. “And I would be thankful if you helped me understand most of it.”

Cersei crossed the room quickly, easily finding the raven scroll on top of the other things on the desk.

 

 

> _My dear Cersei,_
> 
> _I know you will hate me for this, but I must do what I think right. I know the reason why you worked so hard to have me named a Kingsguard, just as I know why I accepted the white cloak, and twice. But now I must think of Tommen and Myrcella. I wish you could understand. But I feel like we have not understood each other since I showed you the things I would do for love. I ask you to respect my choice, even though I know how unlikely it is._
> 
> _All my love,_
> 
> _Ser Jaime of House Lannister_

 

“What does this mean?” she asked, her voice rising a few octaves.

“This raven was sent from Gulltown,” Tywin revealed. “What obviously — and happily — means your brothers are no longer under Catelyn Tully or Lysa Arryn’s power. My spies there, however, tell me that Jaime and Tyrion left together, on the same ship, and this ship turned north, not south.”

“No. I don’t… I don’t believe it… Jaime wouldn’t… he would _never_ betray me!”

“What did he mean by ‘the reason why you worked so hard to have me named a Kingsguard, just as I know why I accepted the white cloak’?” Tywin demanded.

“This is a lie, Father!” she exclaimed, ignoring his question. “This was a decoy they sent to destabilise us. This isn’t from Jaime,” she insisted, even though deep down she knew it was true. Jaime wouldn’t have told anyone about the reason for their plans to have him in the Kingsguard and much less mention what happened with Bran Stark at the bloody tower in the Midnight Fortress.

“The raven could be a lie, it is true,” Tywin conceded, “but Jaime going north isn’t. And, besides, this raven doesn’t speak about vague reassurances, it speaks of very direct things. The first, that you worked to have him accepted into the Kingsguard — in a blatant betrayal against me, might I add…”

“How would it be a betrayal? To have your son accepted in the most prestigious military order of the Seven—”

“To have my son disinherited and to make it so the Lannister name would end here. Or be perpetuated by _Tyrion_!”

“I am your eldest child!” she cried.

Tywin scoffed. “You are my _daughter_. Your role was to make sure the Royal line would be perpetuated by Lannister blood, even if not by Lannister name. Jaime was the one who was supposed to hold Casterly Rock and have heirs of our name and blood. But it seems it was you who ruined this plan, and not Aerys.”

“Jaime didn’t want—”

“That was not for you to decide!” he bellowed, finally turning towards her. “Why? Tell me, now, why would you betray me, betray our House?”

“I won’t believe Jaime has abandoned us until he tells me in person,” Cersei said in lieu of answering.

“I wish I shared your faith in your brother,” Tywin said, sitting back on his desk. “But after this betrayal I no longer trust either of you. Go find something to do, Cersei, while I try to find the King and get him back.”

“You are speaking about my son!”

“I am. And the only reason I’m going to bother finding him is because I want my grandson on the throne. You could at least have fooled Robert into putting a child in you before he met his untimely end. But now it’s been too long for us to have you lie with anyone and make it look like the child is Robert’s.”

“Tommen is the eldest son. He is king.” Cersei was seething now

“And Tommen is not here. I need a king _here_. For the honour of House Lannister.”

“Fuck House Lannister! My son—”

“Don’t start with sentimentality, Cersei! We need the crown, not the boy. _We_ are irrelevant. We will soon be all dead and it is our _name_ that will continue. It doesn’t matter if who has heirs is Tommen or someone else.”

Cersei clenched her jaw, fisted Jaime’s raven tightly, and left stomping her heels loudly against the stone floor.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Jon followed Arthur’s advice and stayed at home. Lyanna had been very upset when told she wouldn’t be able to ride on either of the dragons, but Jon agreed with Aunt Ayla, Arthur, and Dany that the saddles were not safe yet. They sent the order to the saddle maker, though, much to the girl’s delight.

It was a balm of a day for the king and queen, home with their children after such turbulent times. They went horseback riding and Jon had to admit he had missed Winterstorm thoroughly, even if he hadn’t had much chance to ride on his voyage. Dany, however, although she had never had any complaints about her mare, she needed to confess she missed the silver the Dothraki had given her and could barely wait until the _Wintersong_ brought her home.

On the next day, they were in the middle of luncheon when the door to the Dining Hall opened and brought visitors.

“Tyrion!” Little Addam yelled. “You’re back! Mama, can we have bacon?”

Dany laughed. “This one time, to celebrate Lord Tyrion’s return, we may have bacon at luncheon.”

“Your Graces,” Jaime said, kneeling. “I have come to swear my allegiance to House Targaryen.”

“You have betrayed House Targaryen before, Ser Jaime,” Dany said. “We all know what happened in the throne room during the Sack.”

“What, Mama?” Lyanna asked.

“A long story, little princess,” Arthur said, standing up. “You do realise where your sister and father are, don’t you?”

“Yes. I would ask for mercy on their behalf. But I beg you to spare Tommen and Myrcella. He won’t even be aware of anything Cersei and my father do on his name.”

“The children will be safe,” Jon said. “But we must say we are hesitant to trust you, Kingslayer.”

“Your Grace, if I may. Ser Jaime acted on behalf of the city — loyalists, rebels, and smallfolk alike — even when he betrayed his king,” Tyrion advocated. “And now, after he has been freed from captivity, he chose to come here to swear you fealty, unsure what his reception would be. He chose to do so because it was the right thing to do, instead of choosing the safety of returning to King’s Landing. Ser Gyllem didn’t force him to follow us, nor did he threaten my brother. Jaime _chose_ to come.”

“Going to Cersei would be easy,” Arthur pointed out.

“You will swear fealty before the lords, ladies, and knights present in this castle this afternoon,” Dany decreed. “And you should consider yourself lucky that Lord Tyrion enjoys our trust and that Ser Arthur spoke for you.”

“Also, you will be under Ser Arthur’s command,” Jon added. “You will not, at this moment, be allowed to wear the white cloak, given your offences. You betrayed my grandfather, who for all of his sins, was your king. And we needn’t mention your treason against Robert Baratheon.”

“You are most magnanimous, Your Graces.”

Then they dismissed the knight.

“Jaime,” Arthur called as he was being escorted to a guest chamber. “It looks like being Lysa Arryn’s guest didn’t agree with you. Rest today, but training starts at dawn.”

“It will be my absolute honour and delight,” he answered.

Tyrion joined them for the meal, enjoying his bacon immensely once it arrived, making the children laugh with his jokes. He had long since learnt to keep them child-friendly, unwilling to face Ayla’s wrath.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It wasn’t until the next morning that Ayla managed to corner Jon alone in the godswood. He seemed to be expecting her, because the gate was half-opened as she got there — usually, when Jon didn't want company, he locked it. But she found him in front of the heart tree. Rhaegal’s head was laid to Jon’s other side, his breath making winter rose petals fly around.

She sat on the large trunk Benjen had long since carved into a bench and decided to wait. She didn’t have to wait long.

“They really were happy, weren’t they?” he asked.

“Did Arthur tell you differently?” she asked softly.

“No, he didn’t. But Arthur was his best friend. I just… I just wonder. Maybe he was too biased to see differently.”

“He wasn’t,” Ayla reassured him. “Rhaegar gave her the one thing she had always craved: freedom. She couldn’t care less about his title, she cared that he allowed her to be herself. Your grandfather gave her Winter, but she had to steal breeches herself and your uncle told me it was a huge fight. She wasn’t allowed to practice any weapons, like your father allowed Arya. Lyanna was a free spirit, a true northern wolf, and she was leashed too tightly. Rhaegar gave her wings, told her she was beautiful and kind and great _because_ she was a free spirit and she couldn’t help but love him.” The woman snorted. “Robert and your grandfather would have her as a trophy on the mantelpiece, better seen and not heard. Silenced, quiet, and speechless. But she had a voice. And your father heard her.”

“I just… I’m confused, still. A little bit, at least,” Jon mumbled.

“About your relation to Daenerys?”

“No.” He chuckled. “I told Arya — and I’ll tell you about Arya’s adventures in a moment — but I told her that growing up I was so certain Dany was too good for me and that she would one day realise that. But then Lya was born and I figured that if we could make something so precious together, there was nothing about us that could be wrong. I was… I thought about it, I did. But even though it is not very common, nobility is filled with avuncular weddings. We have them on House Stark too. And we are Targaryens.”

“Then what you confused about?”

Jon bit his lip and then exhaled heavily. “Rhaegar.”

Ayla felt her heart squeeze. “Accepting one does not deny the other, Jon,” she said softly, reaching to take his hand in hers.

“I’m furious with him. He should have told me years ago. But I can’t… I can’t hate him. And I can’t deny him.”

“Of course you can’t, Jon. Ned Stark is and always will be your father. Nothing and no one will ever be able to take that away from either of you. He claimed you as his son to protect you and he could have done nothing but that, but he didn’t. He raised you, he showed you right from wrong, and he taught you to be a man just the same as any of the sons of his blood. Accepting Rhaegar as your father does not deny that. Because Rhaegar also loved you, he simply did not have the chance to be there for you. But trust me, he would have been.”

“He left Aegon and Rhaenys. The real Aegon, I mean.”

“He didn’t _leave_ Aegon and Rhaenys. Otherwise, you would have left your children when you went after Dany. The deal was that he would visit the children in Dorne when he could and they would visit him at least once a year. It was, perhaps, not ideal, but it _would_ make everyone happier. Besides, from what your mother told me, Rhaegar hoped that, once Aerys was no longer a complication, Elia would agree to spend more time in Court or at least Dragonstone.” She smiled. “I was there, Jon. Trust me. When the maester confirmed Lyanna was pregnant, they were both thrilled. Very much so. They wanted you so much. They loved you so much.”

“Growing up, all I ever wanted was to be a Stark,” Jon said. “I… from a very young age, as soon as I understood what marriages are, actually, I understood I would have my House and my own name, but I didn’t want this. I never wanted House Starling, I wanted to be a Stark. It turns out I never—”

“You _are_ a Stark, Jon,” Ayla said. “You are a trueborn son of House Stark, even if on your mother’s side. And you were raised in Winterfell. You have the North in your heart. It is not a name that will take it from you. Being a Stark is more than carrying a _name_ , it’s carrying what it _means_ to be a Stark, the values and duties.”

“Maybe.” He ripped a blade of grass and started to cut it apart. “But I don’t know what it means to be a Targaryen either.”

“Well, you and Dany and the children are the last Targaryens. You get to decide what it means from now on.”

“What if it means madness?”

“Oh, honey, you and Dany can be reckless — her a little bit more, though you’re not that far behind — but you are _not_ mad.”

“The Mad King wasn’t born mad and evil either,” Jon insisted. “And he would have blown up King’s Landing!”

“Evil isn’t born, Jon, it is made.”

“Viserys was mad!”

“Because he was kicked out of his home and watched his entire family murdered, his sister growing up in the hands of enemies while he begged for food and shelter. Aerys went mad because who knows what tortures didn’t they bestow upon him in Dukensdale. Because he had the impression he could do whatever he wanted once he was free. If I were captured and tortured for moons and moons, I believe I would get a little paranoid as well. But madness does not poison every Targaryen. Maester Aemon is not mad. Rhaegar was not mad. You and Dany are not mad. Stop trying to find the darkness in this cloud, honey. Try looking for the silver lining.”

Jon nodded and allowed her to hug him. He should be used to being told to stop brooding by now.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Littlefinger gets delightful news and the war makes its first victim as the dragon finds its third head.

Littlefinger smiled satisfied, victory pulsing in his blood. This… ah, this would get him where he wanted to go!

It seemed like luck was finally on his side once more and he couldn’t be happier. Marrying Lysa had been a necessary task, however unpleasant it was, but she was thankfully very easy to please, especially after a couple glasses of the strong dessert wine from the Blessed Island. At least for that they were useful.

His plotting in regards to Catelyn had worked flawlessly — even if it had gotten a bit too close to getting Jaime Lannister killed for his liking. But it had been a calculated risk and it had all worked out in the end. Catelyn had kidnapped the two Lannister brothers (and hadn’t Littlefinger been delighted to hear Jaime was at the Crossroads at the wrong time), had brought them straight to the Eyrie — as Littlefinger had imagined she would — and like that started war between Starks and Lannisters. Finally!

To add fuel to the chaos, an Aegon Targaryen had come from gods know where and taken Dragonstone, killing Stannis Baratheon in the process. Then, most interesting of it all, Jon Starling turned out to be a trueborn Targaryen. Ned Stark and his bloody honour! But now the entire realm would drown in war and chaos. And chaos, after all, was a ladder.

Littlefinger’s only regret was that, in one last fight between the sisters, Catelyn had decided to leave. He would have preferred she stay safe here with him, but she had been unmovable. Littlefinger would forever love her, how pathetic was that? A woman who had denied and denied and denied him, but still held his heart. But he had to be practical, and practically speaking, Catelyn had outlived her usefulness. Now that she had finally started the war he had been orchestrating for so long, there was nothing more she could do. Her children would either deny her or — being the honourable fools they were — they would shelter her, but they would never trust her again.

So he let her go, sending a few men to escort her down the Highroad, wishing her all the best. Jon Targaryen would probably be too weak to act against his childhood tormentor in the name of his siblings, the predictable fool, but with any luck her presence would cause discomfort in their war camp.

But these latest news… Littlefinger smiled again. Maester Colemon had been Jon Arryn’s creature, so one of his first acts after his wedding to Lysa was to slowly alienate the old man and after a few moons suggest a new maester to help in his duties. Lysa would never deny him anything and the new maester had just brought him delicious news. His not-at-all-beloved wife was pregnant! Honestly, it had been baffling at first, for her to get pregnant after two years, and she was not so young either, in her mid-thirties, and with a history of miscarriages. But the maester seemed certain she was well and the child would thrive, so Littlefinger was already calculating and plotting.

A boy could be manipulated into being his big brother’s heir in time for Sweetrobin to have an unfortunate accident together with their mother and leave Littlefinger the regent of the Eyrie and Lord Protector of the Vale. A girl would delay those plans for at least twelve or thirteen years, when she could be married to Harry Hardying and once an heir had been born the same accident could befall him as it had Lysa and her sickly son. A long-term investment, but something that might turn out to be worth it in the end. In any case, a claim by blood was always stronger than a claim by the late-widow’s husband. He smiled again. What a beautiful time to be alive!

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Yohn Royce was a man who utterly disliked nonsense. He was a knight, an honourable man, and he detested games and politicking, and ever since Lord Jon Arryn died, that was all there was in the Vale. He had always disliked Lysa Tully — and had always sneered at the fact that her father had sold her off in the Rebellion —, he abhorred the way she molly-coddled her son into a useless, weak, fool. The Lord of the Eyrie, a spineless buffoon, the heresy! But ever since she married Lord Baelish… he huffed in impatience again.

“We could try taking the boy away again,” Lady Anya Waynwood suggested. “Claim another tour of the Vale and keep him in Runestone.”

“She will never fall for that again, especially not while the Kingdoms are at war,” Royce replied. “Besides, with Baelish whispering in her ear, we don’t stand a chance.”

“Oh, what a dreadful, dreadful man! We should have forbidden the marriage!” Lady Waynwood said.

“How?” Ser Lyn Corbray asked. “She was a widow, Regent to the Vale. We had no power to stop her.”

Maester Colemon finally joined them, his old face tense and wrinkled with concern.

“So?” Lord Royce demanded. “Is she indeed pregnant?”

“Everything points in that direction, though she didn’t allow me to examine her closely. I was standing in the room as that pathetic changeling masqueraded as a—”

“Maester Colemon, forgive us for our curtness, but this is not the moment to vent your complaints over this second maester,” Ser Lyn said.

“Of course, of course, my apologies. As I was saying, her belly is firm and swelling, she feels nausea, fatigue, and tenderness in her breasts, in short, symptoms that point to pregnancy.”

“But how?!” Lady Waynwood exclaimed. “She is no young woman and given her history…”

“As embarrassing as it is to speak against our liege lords, Lord Jon Arryn had two wives before her and no living child, only a weak son from Lysa herself,” Lord Royce pointed out. “Perhaps the fault for the lack of heirs was shared.”

“But they have been married for two years!” Lady Waynwood insisted.

“So they had to endeavour long for it,” Royce said with finality. “And that is beyond the point. If she is pregnant, we must plan accordingly: to protect Lord Arryn.”

“You are absolutely certain she is with child, are you not, Maester?” Lady Waynwood asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“One can only be absolutely certain when one draws the child from the mother’s womb,” was Colemon’s answer. “Her symptoms do match those of pregnancy, but I hate to say I have my doubts. The lady has never been much regular in that aspect and… Well, there is no way of knowing. Not yet, at least.”

“How long until the birth?” Ser Lyn asked.

“By what we could ascertain, about six to seven moons.”

“Baelish will not wait long to engineer a way to get rid of Lord Arryn,” Ser Lyn said.

“Not for a while, no,” Royce disagreed. “If Lord Arryn suffers ‘an accident’ before the child is born, we will give the Eyrie to Harrold Hardyng, who is, after all, the current heir. But Baelish will try to manipulate the child into becoming Lord Arryn’s heir, of that I am certain. Or, if they should have a girl, he will kill whatever wife and children Harry the Heir has when the girl is old enough to marry, and harry himself once an heir has been born. In any case, Baelish will try to get control over the Eyrie.”

“So what do we do?” Lady Waynwood asked.

“Wait,” Royce stated. “We wait and we pray for the best. In the meantime, I will concentrate on getting our men ready. Lysa is challenging my position as Lord Protector, but she will have to realise that at some point we will have to choose a side.”

“She won’t,” Ser Lyn said, visibly upset. “She will want to keep the Knights of the Vale here in the Eyrie, like cowards, to ‘protect Lord Arryn’.”

“Baelish won’t like that,” Lady Waynwood said.

“No,” Royce exhaled, irritated. “He will want to side with the Lannisters, since he knows Lord Stark will never trust him.

“Lady Lysa will never side with the Lannisters,” Lady Waynwood was certain. “As the recent spectacle with Jaime and Tyrion showed.”

“The gods alone know what that man can convince her to do,” Royce muttered. Then he stopped pacing. “We must now be doubly as vigilant or Baelish will try to destroy House Arryn so he can rise in its place.”

“Perhaps we should find Harry a good wife from a loyal family,” Lady Waynwood suggested. “If he has heirs — legitimate heirs, that is — then that will strengthen his claim. Since House Arryn has been suffering from the lack of heirs.”

“Yes, yes, very good,” Ser Lyn agreed.

“Lord Royce, perhaps your daughter, Ysilla?” Maester Colemon said. “House Royce is loyal and very important to the Vale.”

The lord smiled and was very honoured. Then three knocks sounded on the door, the signal that someone was coming this way, and they disbanded quickly — it wouldn’t do to be caught conspiring.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Time was an odd concept, Jon came to find. A blur of preparing, packing the army and plotting troop movements. At the same time, tranquillity and peace with his beloved wife and children. The two concepts didn’t reconcile, but were together all the same. The days until their ships arrived in Maidenpool trickled by and Jon needed to admit he was conflicted: on the one hand, he dreaded it, dreaded leaving this idyllic dream of serenity with his family; on the other, he wanted to get this war over with to make sure his family was safe. As ‘getting it over with’ meant King’s Landing and Court and politics, the idyllic dream was definitely winning out.

Finally, he packed a satchel and had to say good-bye to the children — and that didn’t go over well, even when Dany promised she would be back very, very soon to spend a few more days with them.

“What do you think of him?” Jon asked Arthur as he tied his satchel to Rhaegal’s saddle.

“I think he’s still got a bit of the overeager seventeen-year-old boy who wanted to be a Kingsguard, even if he has a lot weighing him down.”

“Killing his first king or fathering the children for his second king to name?”

“Not protecting Queen Rhaella will forever haunt him, I’m sure. As well as not being able to help Elia and your siblings, I think,” the knight said and Jon sighed.

“I just can’t trust him, Arthur. All I know of him is that he killed his king, my grandfather, then he was an arrogant arse, he slept with his sister, cuckolding his next king… he’s a _Lannister_.”

“So is Tyrion and you’ve had him as your guest, managing the expansion of your village, for nigh on three years. Jon, you don’t need to trust him. Better, you _shouldn’t_ trust him, but maybe afford him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Are you speaking as a Kingsguard or as his mentor?” Jon asked, smiling a bit.

“A little bit of both,” Arthur chuckled. “Maybe I am letting the image of young Jaime, who lived to please me and make me proud cloud my judgement, but I do think he’s got something to offer. As I said the day he arrived, he could have gone to Cersei, it would have been the easiest choice. He chose something infinitely harder.”

“Doing what’s right?” Jon asked, frowning.

“Turning his back on the woman he loves in order to do what is right,” Arthur explained. “As Maester Aemon very aptly put, more often than not, love is the death of duty.”

“Have you ever loved anyone?” Jon asked, curious for the first time.

“No.” The knight laughed. “I thought I fancied a girl once, but I was a boy who didn’t know any better. I’ve come to see what love is.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Some men were born to love, others were born to be practical, Jon. Otherwise the world would be utter chaos. I’m one of the ones born to be practical. I don’t have the patience for love or flowers or songs, and I am happiest putting my sword to use protecting the fools like yourself who do have the patience for such.”

“You do realise you just called your king a fool, don’t you?” Jon asked, laughing now.

“I do, yes. A northern fool in love. But that is a good thing. Because I know you, and I know your heart. And your heart is big enough to love your wife, your children, your family, and your people.”

“Be careful, Ser Arthur, that was very close to sappiness,” Jon joked, turning around to hide his blush.

“Pick up your sword and I will show you sappiness, Your Grace.”

They both laughed as Dany joined them.

“What is the joke?” she asked.

“Your husband,” the knight replied, getting a ‘hey’ in return.

“We should go,” Dany said fondly. “Or we shall be drawn into solving another problem. You will have enough time to jape whilst we’re in the air.”

“I’ll see you when we land,” Jon said, kissing her on the forehead before climbing on Rhaegal’s back.

Dany was waiting for Balerion to land when Ayla came and wrapped a scarf around her neck, startling her.

“What is this for?”

“It’s cold up in the clouds, I’d imagine,” Ayla replied, tying the woollen scarf properly. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be snow on top of mountains. We can’t have you catching a cold or a sore throat or anything. The poor baby would suffer more than you.”

“Aunt, I’m already wearing enough furs.”

“Never too much, if you ask me,” Ayla mumbled. “Are you sure you’re going to be comfortable riding for hours in that saddle?”

“Yes,” Dany insisted, taking her aunt’s hands within her own. “I shall be perfectly fine. I love that you worry, but I _will_ be fine. If I feel anything, Balerion will feel it through our bond and he will warn Rhaegal and land. I promise.”

Ayla nodded and watched as Dany climbed on the dragon’s back. As Rellos climbed behind her, the woman stepped closer to Balerion.

“Take care of your mother,” she said. The dragon looked at her with intelligent eyes and blinked, satisfying her.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dany and Balerion landed first just outside the castle. Rellos was — unnecessarily — helping her climb down when Jon and Rhaegal landed as well, so by the time they made it to the gates, quite a gathering of people awaited them in the courtyard. She smiled as she saw the man standing in front of everyone else.

“Your Graces, Castle Black is yours,” Jeor Mormont said.

“We are very glad for your friendship and alliance, Lord Commander,” Jon said, since Dany was too distracted greeting their uncle.

“My nephew,” Maester Aemon said, extending his hands, which Jon took gladly. “How it gladdens my heart that you now know. That I can tell you how proud I am of you while you know I speak as your blood.”

Jon smiled and hugged the old man.

“Uncle, there is… someone I would like to introduce to you, if you would come just outside,” Dany said.

“I am nearly afraid to ask if I heard what I think I heard, my dearest niece.”

“You told me to let them loose, Uncle,” she said softly. “And so I did.”

“What a remarkable woman you are, Niece,” the old maester’s voice was shaking with emotion. “To wake dragons from stone.”

They walked the short distance to where the three dragons gathered and, to their surprise, it wasn’t Balerion who came forward first, but Rhaellion. He approached slowly, cautiously, and when Maester Aemon extended a hand forward, the dragon touched it with his snout.

“What a marvellous creature!” Aemon said. “Describe him to me, Niece, please,” he asked, rubbing the scaly face.

“You are meeting Rhaellion, Uncle,” she said. “He is cream coloured with golden hues and his fire is yellow.” She furrowed her brows. “Let him in, Uncle,” she continued softly. “He wants to say hello.”

Maester Aemon gasped as the connection strengthened in the back of his mind and he opened himself to it, feeling bright flame enveloping them. The bond was forged then, man and dragon of one mind.

“The dragon has three heads now,” Dany said, smiling widely.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The afternoon was fading away when Jon landed just outside the walls of Winterfell. Bran was beyond excited to meet Rhaegal, obviously, but still Jon noticed something amiss with his brother. But he was too preoccupied, the thought of going there now that he knew…

The statue was the same as he had seen countless times. The only woman in a crypt made for the Kings of Winter, later the Lords of Winterfell, but she belonged there same as them. A statue that didn’t do her justice, Jon knew. He had etched into his memory every detail of her face that he could during their too-brief meeting.

He lit several candles and simply stood there. He noticed the small urn with Winter’s ashes and couldn’t help but smile at the little ironies of life. Jon couldn’t tell how long he sat there, but he knew it had been several hours when Maester Luwin ventured down the stairs.

“Your Grace.”

“I’m not hungry nor cold, Maester, thank you.”

“I beg your forgiveness but I don’t quite believe it. The hunger part at least. But I know better than to try and dissuade a Stark when they have their mind made up. After I overheard Lord and Lady Stark speaking of your birth, he entrusted something into my care, should anything happen before he could give it to you himself. I will be bold enough to give it to you now, if you would like it.”

“I would, aye, thank you.”

They left the crypts and crossed the castle all the way to the maester’s solar, where Jon waited, with a lot of impatience, for the man to return with a small trunk. There was a rose etched on the lock and, once opened, the underside of the lid read: _Lady Lyanna of House Stark_. A second engraving, younger and with a different calligraphy, read: _Princess of Dragonstone_.

“Lord Stark found this in the Tower of Joy,” Maester Luwin said. “He brought it back and told me he intended to pass it on to you when the time was right. I will leave you with it now, my king.”

Jon barely acknowledged his departure, entranced by the contents of the trunk. His mother’s things, some material memento that she had lived and laughed and cried and loved.

The first thing, at the very top, was a maiden cloak. It was simple and clearly done in a rush, but it was dark grey, nearly black, with a red three headed dragon sewn on it. He fingered it and set it aside. There was also a ceremonial ribbon, black silk with grey wolves and red dragons to celebrate the groom and bride; an elegant dagger with a pommel made up of rubies and dragonglass — Jon tested it and the edge was a bit blunt, but nothing a whetstone couldn’t fix.

All of it, proof that Lyanna Stark lived.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Dany opened the door to the playroom quietly, on the off-chance the children were taking their afternoon nap. The youngest ones — Little Aemon, Rhea, and Lyarra — were in their nurseries, but the older ones were constructing what she imagined was a toy dragon, their little direwolf puppies pushing pieces to help.

“Mama!” Lyanna and Addam yelled. “You’re back!”

“I told you I would be back soon!”

“Papa isn’t back?” Lyanna pouted.

“He needed to talk to Uncle Robb, little love,” Dany said. “But I’ve brought someone who is very eager to meet you!” The children turned to the door. “Lyanna, Little Addam, this is our uncle, Maester Aemon.”

“The one who lives at the Wall?” Lyanna asked.

“I did,” Maester Aemon answered. “But the Lord Commander thought it would be nice if I came and spent some time here with you for awhile. If you would have me.”

“Aye!” Addam exclaimed.

“Family here always,” Lyanna said. She came closer and curtseyed in front of her uncle. “Welcome to our home, Uncle Aemon, we are glad to have you.”

Dany smiled, tears flooding her eyes at seeing her little princess so polite and proper. Maester Aemon held out one hand, which the girl took, confused.

“Oh, sweet child, your old uncle is blind,” he said, sensing it.

“Blind, Uncle?” she asked, confused.

“He can’t see, Lya,” Dany said. “His eyes are too old and tired. He only knows what he can touch now.”

“Oh! That’s sad.” Then she hugged the old man. “It’s alright, Uncle, Addam and I can help you walk around. So you won’t trip on a stair.”

“I will cut down all the bad things on the way with my sword, Uncle!” the boy promised.

The maester smiled, tears of happiness streaking down his face. “Oh, the joy of little children!” he exclaimed, happily hugging both of them.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Robb was sitting in his tent that morning, enjoying the last few moments before he had to leave so it could be packed and they could resume their march south. At this point, Harrenhall seemed farther away than Dorne. Suddenly, a loud growl came from outside and startled him. Grey Wind had left after Margaery, so Robb quickly reached for his sword and left the tent.

“Bloody hells!” he gasped, shocked, as he got outside. “Hold your fire!” he called, seeing some archers tremulously take aim. “Doubt it would be helpful anyway,” he muttered, nearly running to the nearby clearing the dragon had been circling. “Now this is a surprise!”

Jon chuckled. “Horses are kind of slow these days,” he said, guarded.

“I’ll bet. Now, who would have imagined: my brother, a dragon rider.”

Jon looked up, the word washing over him like a wave of relief. They crossed the few steps quickly and hugged each other.

“You are my _brother_ , you do know that, don’t you?” Robb asked, knowing Jon’s penchant for second guessing himself all too well.

“I do.” Jon chuckled. “Arya knocked the message into my head clearly enough.”

“Good! She’s a smart girl. Anyway, tell me you killed the bastard who took Dany,” Robb said after they took a step back.

“ _She_ did,” Jon snorted. “My uncle, her own brother Viserys.”

“Poor Dany. She didn’t deserve to go through that.”

“She said he committed a crime and she delivered Northern justice,” Jon said.

“Justice is sometimes terrible, Jon,” Robb stated darkly. “But enough of that. Do I have a new nephew or a niece?”

“We don’t know yet.” Jon smiled. “Dany is growing bigger every day, but we still have two moons or so to go, according to Aunt Ayla.”

“And you took her home, right?”

“I didn’t.” Jon laughed. “Balerion did.”

“Balerion?” Robb asked, then risked a glance to the green dragon next to them.

“This is Rhaegal, I’m his rider. Dany bonded with Balerion, he is even bigger and scarier, if you can believe it.”

“Good for her. I bet they form a fearsome unit.”

Jon only chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s staying up there with the children for a few more days. The ships are still crossing the Narrow Sea. We went to Castle Black yesterday, to see Uncle Aemon. I just… I needed to go to Winterfell. I needed to visit the crypts.”

Robb nodded solemnly, unsure of what to say. “And where is your shadow?”

“Home, with Dany. Jaime Lannister came to swear fealty so Arthur was hesitant to leave, since we aren’t sure that we can trust him yet. I promised to go to Winterfell and to your camp, no stopping to find trouble in between, so he gladly stayed at the Fortress. He doesn’t like to ride on Rhaegal very much.”

“You mean to say Rhaegal takes on passengers?” Robb asked, a smile spreading.

“Arya asked me to tell you she was the first one.”

“Well, that was because of time and place,” Robb said, waving it away.

Jon only chuckled. “So, how about it?”

“Hells, yes!” Robb said. “Let me just send a runner for Margaery or she will be furious when I land.”

“That is a fucking dragon!” Came the loud voice, cutting through the brothers’ moment.

“Hello, Tormund,” Jon said, laughing. “I see we can count on the Free Folk being on our side.”

“You are a friend to the Free Folk, Dragon King, so we are your friend in turn.”

“We can talk later,” Robb cut in, excited.

“Come on, then.” Jon laughed as he turned to Rhaegal and climbed on the saddle. Without hesitation, Robb climbed right behind him. “Hold on, brother. He is _fast_.”

To make a point of the words, Rhaegal opened his wings and, in two forward steps for momentum, they were airborne. Robb gasped, amazed, as the dragon climbed higher and higher into the clouds.

“Paktot,” Jon said. (* _right_ )

Rhaegal banked sharply and Robb cursed.

“How fast is he, really?” he asked after a moment, excited.

Jon smirked. “Go south with the wind,” he commanded in Valyrian.

And he felt Rhaegal’s amusement through their bond as the dragon beat his wings faster. Robb cursed loudly now, his hair wild in the strong wind. After the first shocking moment, Robb began to enjoy himself, even letting loose and laughing loudly. After a while, Jon noticed his brother had gone quiet.

“Everything alright back there?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Awesome!” Robb answered. “Just a bit cold.”

“Ilagon, Rhaegal. Sorry, I forgot to tell you to grab a thicker cloak.”

“Tip for the future!” Robb said.

Jon laughed and looked below as Rhaegal lost altitude.

“Is that an army train?” he asked.

Robb looked down as well, gulping when the altitude caused some slight vertigo. “Looks like it… maybe it’s… fuck, Jon!”

Rhaegal increased the speed forward and downward again, jostling them. The direwolf howling was loud in their ears and the dragon replied with an equally loud roar.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

They had stopped for the midday meal, a brief spell of resting in their days of travelling. The adults and Rickon knew it was a necessary discomfort to get to their destination, but the children were very grumpy, and getting grumpier by the day. The novelty of being on the road, of riding and not having lessons, had long since weaned and now there was an added complication.

“She is with child,” Ashara announced once inside the tent.

Edric paled, but then opened a brilliant smile.

“Are you certain, Aunt?”

“Yes, my dear. Maester Byren just confirmed it. She is resting now, but go speak with your wife.”

“You are worried about something,” Ned said once they were left alone. He was trying to not dwell on the fact that his baby girl was pregnant, even if he knew she was well married.

“A war camp is no place for a pregnant woman,” Ashara said. “I know why Sansa wanted to come with us and I know she promised she would go back if and when she got with child, but we cannot spare the men to escort her now.”

“Ashara,” Ned called. “Other than the fact that a war camp is no place for a pregnant young lady, why are you worried?”

She sighed. “She nearly fell from her horse, Ned. Because she was in pain. I’m worried… I don’t want her to go through what we went through with our first born.”

He swallowed drily. “She will ride in the carriage from now on,” he said.

“Oh, I’ve already told her that,” Ashara grumpily said. “Doesn’t change the fact that the pain is there.” She sighed. “I wish Ayla were here…”

Silver stood suddenly, making Ned look sharply at him, cutting his reply short. They followed the direwolf out from under the shade that had been erected for their meal and felt their chins fall open in shock.

“That can’t be what I think it is!” Ashara gasped.

The wolf howled, getting a roar in response, and the dragon landed heavily in front of them. Ned felt a shiver go down his spine as the large head lowered and Jon became visible, sitting on the large, green back of the great creature.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

When he heard Silver’s howl, Jon knew exactly who he would find once they landed. He knew he could have had Rhaegal turn around and fly back to Robb’s camp, avoiding a reunion he did not know if he was ready for. But he also knew that avoidance would get him nowhere.

It was an odd staring match once Rhaegal landed and, obviously, right in front of Ned and Ashara. Jon hesitated, but Robb quickly unfastened his leg straps and climbed down from the saddle. The king followed more slowly, so by the time he stood next to the dragon, Robb had already greeted their father and stepped aside to greet their stepmother.

“Son…” Ned started, hesitantly.

“We need to talk,” Jon said.

“We do,” he agreed. “But, please, I just need you to know…”

Jon crossed the few steps between them suddeenly and hugged him fiercely, a hug that carried too many unspoken things and that was just as fiercely returned.

“You are my son, too,” Ned said once they parted, his voice filled with emotion, holding Jon close by the back of his head. “As angry as you might be, please don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “But I am angry.”

Ned nodded. “We can talk—”

“Lord Stark!” a soldier came rushing to them on a horse. “Oh! Your Grace! I beg your pardon, but there’s news from the end of the trail! We’re under attack!”

“I’ll take Rhaegal there and—”

“Jon, no. If the enemy already engaged, you and… the dragon won’t be able to discern friend from foe. Lord Tyrell is holding the rear-guard, we must trust that his men can hold the line,” Ned said, though his face was scrunched up in worry.

“Ned, if they can’t…” Ashara started, panicking. “Jon, can you take the children?”

“I don’t know if the saddle is safe enough for that,” Jon said. “I can take Rhaegal and try to get to the portion of their army that hasn’t engaged yet.”

“Wouldn’t work, Your Grace, I’m sorry to meddle. But they were already swamping the rear-guard by the time I left. I don’t think they can get past too much of the train, but they’ll try.”

“I’ll see anyway,” Jon said. “Besides, we need to ensure command of our forces.”

“You’re not going alone!” Robb said, rushing over and climbing on Rhaegal’s back.

“Wait!” Ned called. “I’m not letting both of you ride into danger!”

“Be careful!” Ashara said. “All three of you!”

It was with great trepidation that Ned climbed behind Robb and tied the straps around his legs. The passengers didn’t have a comfortable saddle like the rider’s, it was more of a harness to keep them in place, but it was still better than trying to hold on bareback.

The end of their trail was close enough with the dragon’s speed, and by the time they reached it, the battle was over, their side having won.

“Sellswords, Your Grace,” a knight from the Reach informed them once they landed. “We counted fifteen hundred of them, not many on horses. They snuck up on us just before dawn and we were unprepared.”

“How many did we lose?” Ned asked. Fifteen hundred sellswords was a paltry number to face their marching force — even for a sneak attack. There was something amiss.

“Still counting. But… you should come and see.” The knight led them through the mess of fallen men and horses to a grand tent, green with a golden rose painted on the side. “We’re waiting for the maester, to see if there was poison.”

“Doesn’t matter at this point,” Jon said.

Mace Tyrell was sitting in his chair, a large chicken leg stuffed in his mouth and a dagger still pinned above his heart. His eyes were opened in shock, making for a macabre setting. An arrow held a note to the back of the chair, next to the man’s head.

“What does it say?” Robb asked.

“‘ _This is what happens to traitors. The Lannisters send their regards_.’,” Jon read. “This was a message. How sick are they?”

“Very,” Ned said in a sombre voice. “They know you have more allies than they could hope to gather. This was a show of force, to try to frighten your allies to their side.” He went to the display and pulled the chicken from Mace’s mouth, cleaning it roughly with a napkin, and closing the man’s unseeing eyes. “We are going to need the Silent Sisters.”

“Who is second in command?” Jon asked.

“That would be Lord Tarly,” the knight replied, making him roll his eyes.

“We need another tent to speak,” Jon said, “then have him summoned.”

“Where is Lord Garlan?” Ned asked. “Wasn’t he here with his father?”

“Lord Tyrell had named Lord Tarly his Lord Commander, Lord Stark.”

“Regardless,” Jon cut in, “since Lord Willas…” he exhaled. “Given what happened to Lord Mace, Lord Willas has been made into the new Lord Tyrell, but he is not here, he is still crossing the Narrow Sea, which means Lord Garlan is in charge here. If Lord Tarly is Lord Commander, summon them both.”

The knight nodded and left.

“This is cowardice,” Robb said, furious. This man was his good-father, butchered to send a message, no honour involved. There were raised voices outside and he went to see. “Garlan, wait, you don’t—”

“I want to see my father!” the man cried, pushing Robb out of his way. Ned was thankful he had had time to unmake a bit of the disrespectful scene. “Who did this?!” Garlan asked, covered in blood and mud and grime, grief and anger overtaking him.

“What is happening?” called a new voice and Robb cursed under his breath. “Father?”

“Love, don’t…”

“Don’t coddle me, Robb!” Margaery snapped. “Oh, my dearest father!” she began crying, crossing the tent to him. “Oh, my sweet Papa, what have they done to you!”

“How did you know to come?” Jon asked Dany quietly.

“I stopped by Robb’s camp and Marge said you had left with Robb for a ride, so she climbed up and I asked Balerion to find Rhaegal.”

“Did any of the leaders of the attackers survive?” Robb asked, holding his wife close.

“Two,” Garlan said. “One of them got on the wrong side of Lord Tarly, so he is past the point of being useful.

“Your Graces,” Rellos called from the opening of the tent. “The Silent Sisters are here.”

Garlan led them a little way away to his own tent, throwing himself heavily into one of the chairs. Robb, who had taken Margaery into his arms, delicately set her on the bed, where she curled up on her side, not letting go of his hand.

“We are terribly, terribly sorry for your loss,” Dany said.

Garlan nodded, a knot in his throat after reading the assassin’s note.

“The Lannisters did this to make an example out of him,” Jon said. “We are—”

“You don’t need to apologise, Your Grace,” Garlan said. “We all knew what we were getting ourselves into. We knew we were taking a side in a war and that there would be losses, though that doesn’t lessen the pain. Their dishonour changes nothing. It only makes clear we chose the right side.”

“We will not let this go unpunished,” Dany promised. “Lord Mace will be remembered, justice will be served, and House Tyrell will be honoured.”

“Thank you, my queen,” Garlan bowed his head and slumped back against the chair.

“We should go back to the head of the train,” Margaery said, sitting up, trying to wipe away her tears. “Lady Stark is there with the children. We must… Dany, Jon, can’t you…”

“I don’t know how safe the saddles are,” Jon said regretfully. “I can stay with the train, Rhaegal can fly over head, but I just…”

“The saddle maker gave me the new bit of the saddles yesterday,” Dany said. “That’s why I came after you, because I thought you would like to stop by home before the ships landed. But the point is — we can secure the children, take them to Winterfell.”

“You should go, then,” Garlan said. “Lord Tarly and I will reorganise the rear-guard.”

“I can take over that if you wish, my lord,” Ned said.

“Thank you, Lord Stark, but no. It will serve me well to do something rather than sit here and wallow. You should go and make sure my good-siblings are all headed to safety.” Then he sighed heavily. “Loras is at the middle of the train. I will…”

“No, let me,” Margaery said. “I’ll ride up to him.”

Robb wanted to stay with his wife, but she insisted he couldn’t simply abandon his own camp or things would turn to chaos. Reluctantly, he accepted the argument and climbed back onto Rhaegal for the short journey to where Ashara anxiously awaited them.

“Oh, I don’t envy Tywin once Lady Olenna hears about this…” Ashara said, outraged. “But it is good that you are here, I was just thinking about Ayla,” she decided just as soon as she was told the events.

“We can take you home, Ashara,” Dany said.

“Thank you, dear, but unless you have an objection, I think Sansa should go to Ayla.”

“We would never object,” Jon said.

“Of course.” She stopped and bit her lip, deep in thought. “It would be too much, bordering on rude, to ask her to handle all of the children…” she mumbled more to herself, turning to tidy some things.

“Ash…” Ned started, but she turned back to him with a sharp look.

“After your stunt accusing Cersei without enough men to back you in King’s Landing, you don’t get to say anything,” she snapped quietly.

“We can bring you back in the morning,” Dany said. “Then you can talk to Ayla in person.”

Ashara bit her lip in contemplation. “I suppose one night is not enough for too great a damage.” She looked at her husband seriously. “Can I trust that you won’t do anything recklessly honourable?”

Ned rolled his eyes. “Your nephew can keep me in line,” he joked.

She snorted. “That is actually a point against it. Edric is too much like Artie.”

“I promise to remember we are at war, how is that?” Ned said grumpily.

Ashara only smiled fondly.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi beloved readers!
> 
> First and foremost, I would like to send a huuuuge thank you to Good_Queen_AlySansa, who did the beta work for this chapter and is investing her time and love in helping me clean up the early chapters -- which will soon be updated.
> 
> Obviously, I can't forget to thank my soul sister toaquiprashippar, the most important critic I have and without whom I would have long since lost enthusiasm.
> 
> That said, I hope everyone enjoyed the revelation of who is the third head of the dragon -- we will have more on that later :D
> 
> To those who saw a comment thread last chapter or checked my Tumblr, I didn't update last week due to finals. The first round is over (thankfully) so I managed to get this chapter out, but there is a second round coming up so I won't promise anything for next week. But let's keep our fingers crossed that I get good grades so I get high sprits and less stress and pressure for the second round of finals!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos warm my heart :D


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